Is It Ever Too Late?
by AndromedaeStarStorm69
Summary: He loves her. She loves him. They just haven't decided if they want to act on it yet. But then he leaves before she can do anything, so there's only one thing for her to do. Inspired by some of the songs of Avril Lavigne. Jon SnowXOC
1. A Friendship Made

Chapter One

**Lyara**

The story of my recent year or so of life is quite complicated at the moment. We'll get to that later though, so hold your bloody horses.

I'd been abandoned by my parents as a babe of five months old, and so grew up with a blacksmith's family in the heart of Winterfell. I was named, or maybe re-named, Lyara. It means 'Fighter' in the tongue of the Northerners. My new mother found me lying in the wet grass, in a field where she had gone to pick the summer poppies. The same place I'd been lying for days, they said, by the looks of me. I'd been sickly and starved, and yet I was still alive, just lying there in all the red screaming my throat raw. Of course, that had been why I was even found in the first place. Lungs like a direwolf pup's. So, after being married for ten years and having only one son, the woman and her husband took me in. I would come to learn their names-Richard and Orla. I always knew I was adopted, as they made no attempt to cover that I was and I looked nothing like them. I had sable hair, while Orla was fair-haired and Richard before he had gotten older had had red hair-at least, if their then eight-year-old son Kirren was anything to go by. My eyes quickly turned hazel green as I grew older, when they were all blue-eyed.

Nevertheless, I liked to pretend that the Rierdens were my real family-that soft, motherly Orla was the one who'd brought me into the world and that strong, kindly Richard had sired me. Kirren I didn't much care for. Even so I wanted him to be my blood brother.

So I was raised by them, as a poor blacksmith's daughter. I didn't meet Jon until I was twelve years old, a week or so after my name-day. I still remember it.

I had been exploring the Winterfell grounds, coming upon the weirwood heart-tree frequented by the Stark family. It was a rather boring day in the eyes of a twelve-year old, having nothing to do unless I wanted to play dolls with the other girls. I hated dolls, being a tomboyish child. I still dislike them to this day. I much preferred my bow that I practiced with regularly, determined to become an expert marksman. I have to say, without being at all boastful (all right, we both know I'm being a little bit boastful. Maybe much too boastful, but still) that I succeeded. But back to my little reminisce.

After walking around the tree a few times, I lay down on my belly to look into the glassy water, stirring its smooth, cold surface with my index finger. And it was then that I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a boy my age with a messy, curled mop of raven-black hair that nearly reached his shoulders. He was staring at me, his pretty slate-grey irises focused on this little girl playing about in the woods as if I were the most fascinating thing in Westeros. We locked eyes for a few minutes, until I eventually said, "Are you going to tell me your name?" My mouth twisted into a rueful smile.

"I'm Jon Snow," he mumbled shyly. "What about you? I think I've seen you before when my father went to buy a new sword. Are you the blacksmith's daughter?" I knew vaguely who he was. Lord Eddard Stark's bastard son. But who was I to judge? My mother had probably been some whore who couldn't afford to keep her baby. I was just as much of a bastard as he was. I had to wonder then why I wasn't called Snow.

"No," I replied. "Not by blood, at least. I was found by his wife when I was little, and they took me in. I'm Lyara Rierden-nice to meet you, Jon Snow." I smiled warmly at him, folding my arms. "I don't suppose you know any fun games?"

We played endless fighting games for the rest of the day, until Orla caught me and dragged me home, bruised and cut, scolding me for being so unladylike, and Lord Stark came to bring Jon home, with considerably less fuss and ear-pulling. We've been best friends ever since.

Winterfell, five years later

I was half asleep when Orla woke me. "Lyara? The Snow boy's here to see you. Time to get up, love," she murmured. I didn't move, instead I simply squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn't not in the mood to get up. Not for Jon, not for anyone. She sighed. "Lyara, if you don't move your arse in the next five seconds I'm throwing cold water over you and you can practice with Jon in your soaked nightclothes." I leaped out of bed at that. Orla didn't make empty threats and she had bloody good aim with a bucket.

"Fine! Fine. I'm awake," I yawned, rubbing my mussed hair with the heel of my hand. "Tell Jon I'll be down to him in a minute." As she left, I groaned and pressed my head back in my pillow before fumbling for the drawer handle to pull out a fresh tunic and leggings. Kirren was probably asleep next door. Lucky twat. I had never felt less like swordfighting, or seeing Jon, but I said and/or felt that respectively every time I was roused to do anything. So, not really wanting to tame my wild mane of hair, I simply put it back in a ponytail to keep it out of my eyes. I would deal with that menial task later. I grabbed my sword and thumped down the stairs, deliberately making quite a bit of noise as I went to wake my stepbrother. He was twenty-five, almost twenty-six, and he would be off to start up his own blacksmith's in a few months' time. I would really, really miss ribbing him so he would lose his temper.

Jon had gotten even more handsome since the day we met. His face had become less boyish in five years, his chin, the edges of his jaw and his top lip covered in hair. The hair that grew on his head was just as curly as ever and his eyes were deep pools of sea on a Winter's day. The smile that came to my lips whenever he was around planted itself idiotically on my face, and I could almost feel my eyes light up. "Morning, Snow," I grinned cheerily. "Come for your daily arse-kicking?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm. Are you sure it's not the other way around, Lady Rierden?" he asked teasingly. "If I recall I had my sword at your throat yesterday." I shook my head.

"Call me Lady again and I'll break your cock off like a twig and ram it all the way up your arse." A grin finally came to his face.

"LYARA RIERDEN! Don't you dare use such filthy language or I'll shove your bloody face in the fucking fire," Richard boomed from inside, only half joking. I closed my eyes, cringing internally. Even so, everyone knows I swear as much as any man in Winterfell does. Perhaps more than that. I've only ever heard Jon curse a couple of times, though. He started to walk off, making his way across the square to his father's practice grounds.

"C'mon Lyara. Bran wanted to watch today; let's not disappoint him by being late," he called over his shoulder. I glared at his back before I shifted into a runner's gait instead of a slug's one and sprinted on after him. Sure, I was a girl and a right gangly one at that, but I was much faster than Jon and both of us knew it. I passed him before he could do anything about it, racing him. I went to effortlessly flick my legs over the fence, and, of course, tangled in a heap and went flat on my arse with a resounding, "Ooof!"

Jon laughed as he caught up and saw me lying in the grass, trying to get my breath back. "Bugger...off," I wheezed painfully, trying to get back up. Bran came up behind us-with his father in tow. I finally struggled up and managed to bow. "My Lord," I coughed out.

"Miss Rierden," Lord Stark replied, nodding. Jon's face had taken a downward turn, less cordial in front of his father. I knew how much he wanted to please Lord Stark, to make him proud. I would have done the same-except with my foster family I didn't have that much to prove.

I hopped (slightly more gracefully and with less falling-on-arse-like-a-fool action) over the fence, striding out to the centre. Jon wasn't far behind as I drew my sword and turned to face him. His expression was a mix of determination and concentration, two qualities that had always shone brightly in his personality. I narrowed my eyes, leaning into a fighter's stance. "Come on then," I hissed, mock-threateningly. He rushed, as frighteningly accurate as ever, at me head-on. I spun 90 degrees out of the way, blocking him with a swing of steel and silver. It was like a fast, predatory dance, which took a long time and a lot of practice to master completely. I wheeled around smoothly, dodging a blow to my ribs with a quick parry, slicing upwards and outwards to try and fail to land a small touch on him. He was just as swift as I was in combat, always succeeding in seeing my offenses and defenses and exploiting them. I'd only ever won twenty or so times out of hundreds, maybe even thousands, since we were small and using sticks. It was in archery that I could beat his arse into the dirt without trying very hard. I ducked, moving my weight onto my other leg and not seeing his foot swing out to trip me. Our fight ended with me on the ground, the edge of Jon's sword pointed at my chest. I put my hands up in surrender. "I yield," I sighed, pretending to swoon. He let me up, my grey-legging-ed arse covered from crack to thigh in grass stains. Orla was going to throw my head to the dogs when she was done with me. Lord Stark was laughing so hard I feared his sides would rip open. Bran wasn't exactly sitting there calm-countenanced either. I half-smiled breathlessly, panting and sweating more than I'd ever done before.

"Well done, Jon, Lyara," Lord Stark began, serious once more. He turned to Jon. "That was very well fought. Keep up the good work, Jon, and you may make a great swordsman. And as for you, young lady, I shouldn't wonder if you'll be on the battlefield someday. You have some admirable skills."

"Thank you, my Lord," I returned, blushing.

"Thank you, my Lord," answered Jon.

I went home, to put my sword away and get my bow. Bran was all too eager to get on with his archery lessons and I'd promised Jon that I would help some. I hadn't anything to do at home, anyway, as Kirren and I do our chores in the evening. I'm the one who does most of them, typically. And that's on a good day. Robb stood there with Jon and Bran when I made it down to the castle (after I bribed Kirren not to tell Orla, who was not the happiest about my friendship with Ned Stark's bastard. That's right; I actually had to _bribe_ my older brother). "Hello, Lyara!" Bran beamed cheerfully. He'd taken a shine to me in the latter two years I'd known his brother. And when he found out I could use a bow.

"Hullo, Bran," I replied, tightening my arm and finger-guards. "How's the practice coming on?"

"Just starting," explained Robb, silencing his younger brother. Bran set to nocking his bow, a look of deep concentration on his face akin to the look on Jon's when we fought with our swords. Drawing the arrow back, he squinted at the target intently before firing. He hit a wine barrel about a foot or so from the left target. Jon put his hands on the ten-year-old's shoulders.

"Go on. Father's watching...and your mother," he murmured, looking up at Lord and Lady Stark. I almost felt the inside wince at 'your mother'. Bran followed his line of sight, smiled briefly at his parents, and took aim again. This time it shot straight into the wall opposite and clunked off of the stone. Robb chuckled.

Bran wasn't giving up so easily. Three arrows were spent before one finally went over the wall and all three Stark children watching burst out laughing. Even I had to laugh a little. Okay, I laughed as much as anyone would. "And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Lord Stark asked dryly. That made us shut up. I was thirteen before I mastered my longbow. "Keep practicing, Bran. Go on."

"Don't think too much, Bran," Jon whispered.

So, for the fifth time, Bran drew his arm back, again making the string too taut. "Relax your bow arm," cautioned Robb. And in the blink of an eye, an arrow thudded into the dead centre of the target. Not Bran's. Arya Stark, Bran's younger sister, smiled and curtsied as we turned to look for the archer. That did it. I cracked up. Bran scowled and chased after her, forgetting about his lessons. "That's it, Bran!" Robb snorted.

"Faster!" Jon yelled, falling about. I got up from where I'd actually rolled on the floor, roaring with peals and peals of laughter. The last few died in my throat as I saw the look that Lady Stark was giving Jon. I immediately wanted to slap her for looking at him like that. I could understand maybe just a miniscule bit, but to look him in the eyes with such hate and glacier-cold fire was unfair and even cruel. I started to pick up the arrows left by Bran, sliding them into the large quiver-like basket used to keep the intact practice missiles, fuming about it. I had respect for her as anyone under her rule would-but from that day on I hated her more than I ever hated anyone. Except perhaps Theon Greyjoy, for certain reasons I'm not divulging right now.

"Snow!" Theon Greyjoy shouted from across the yard. "Get your horse saddled and tell Bran he's to come too. A Night's Watch deserter's getting beheaded by your father." He then noticed me, letting his gaze roam and quite clearly eye-fucking me-like he'd ever get the chance. I'd kick him in the bollocks first until they fell off. He was what quite a lot of people, myself included, would call a man-whore.

"Could you _stop _staring at my tits, Greyjoy?" I growled frostily.

"That's not the only thing I was staring at," he leered. I gave him a two-fingered salute and turned to Jon.

"I'll see you later, Jon. In the godswood?"

"Maybe. See you later, Lyara."

"I don't suppose you're allowed to punch Greyjoy for me?" I muttered, too low for Theon to hear.

"No." A faint hint of amusement illuminated his voice.

**Jon**

I didn't want Bran to see what was going to happen to the deserter. He was far too young, too innocent to see our father swing the sword, to bring it down on the man's neck and cut his head off.

I didn't want to see it myself.

Nevertheless we rode towards the old tree that was used as a chopping block, seeing the soldiers holding him captive. His life would end today. When I joined the Night's Watch, I would never desert them. Not only for the fear of having my head severed from my body, but because I would take my oath more seriously than a contract sealed with my own blood. _'What about Bran and Robb, Rickon and Sansa, Arya and your father? What about Lyara?' _

And there it is. The tiny whisper of doubt that crept into my mind whenever I thought about leaving for the Wall. I would be leaving my family, and it would break my heart to leave Bran especially, but I'd also be leaving behind my best friend, my confidante, and one of the only ones who'd ever cared for me. Could I really leave everything behind? It hurt even to think about it. I pushed every thought out of my mind, trying desperately to focus my attention on my father. Bran had his back to me, but I knew he'd try to look away. To tear his eyes from the horror. Like a sensible person. As our father began to speak the sentence, I whispered to Bran. "Don't look away. Father will know if you do." Because the sight would dance in his soft brown eyes, not yet hardened by battle or bloodshed. My eyes begged for me to close them as he raised the great sword, and with a swift blow, beheaded the young man. Blood spurted from the split carotid artery, staining the grass with its foul red colour. Bran had not flinched. "You did well," I told him, wishing I could have pressed his little, freckled face into my jacket and prevented him from seeing the brutality of execution. I turned back instead, walking down to my horse. I merely wished to leave now. Was it possible to 'unsee' things? I very much doubted it. A few paces away, Father spoke to Bran.

"Do you understand why I did it?" he asked quietly.

"Jon said he was a deserter," Bran answered, adjusting the girth.

"But do you understand why _I _had to kill him?"

"Our way's the old way?"

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"Is it true he saw the White Walkers?" Father paused, thinking carefully. I listened hard, pretending to inspect the martingale on my saddle.

"The White Walkers have been gone for thousands of years," he finally stated, trying to reassure Bran.

"So he was lying?" A much longer pause this time.

"A madman sees what he sees." Father turned away, making for his own horse. I mounted mine, and we began the ride home. I couldn't stop thinking about the head rolling down the hillside. Would that be my head, one day?

Of course not. When I took the Black there would be more chance of a snowball surviving in the hottest of the Seven Hells than of me being a deserter.

We were almost home, just coming over an old wooden bridge when the rotting stag was spotted. One antler was broken. Maggots crawled in the festering flesh and the entrails, guts and organs spilled onto the path, so eaten away and decayed that the foul, pungent odour invaded every corner of my nose and mouth. I could nearly taste it. I swallowed a wave of nausea. "What is it?" I questioned no-one in particular.

"Mountain lion?" continued Theon Greyjoy.

"No mountain lions in these woods," my father insisted. He led us down across a steep, grassy bank, looking for the killer. The river bubbled and flowed at our side, and the side of the unmistakeably dead and decomposing grey direwolf. The missing part of the antler was embedded deep in her throat, and the she-wolf was soaked in her own blood and the stag's. But five small fluffy pups clambered over her, searching for milk which was no longer there. They were very beautiful, their fur thick and rich, and their eyes open and bright. They were yapping noisily.

"It's a freak," Theon spat. I felt like rubbing his stupid, arrogant nose in the stag's putrid guts. He could be an utter git when he wanted to be. He had no respect for anyone except my father, and even that was grudging.

"It's a direwolf," Father corrected. He pulled the broken antler out of her neck. "A tough old beast."

"There are no direwolves South of the Wall," Robb dismissed.

"Now there are five," I interjected, picking up the closest puppy. The silvery fur was wonderfully soft and thick, warm with the blood that pumped under its skin. "Do you want to hold it?" I asked Bran. He nodded, cuddling the mewling pup close.

"Where will they go? Their mother's dead," pointed out Bran. Clearly, he wanted to keep the baby wolves.

"They don't belong down here," Ser Rodrik muttered.

"Better a quick death. They won't last without their mother," decided my father. Theon, eager as always to kill, rushed forward.

"Right, give it here," he ordered Bran, snatching the now squealing puppy.

"No!" Bran cried.

"Put away your blade," snarled Robb.

"I take orders from your father, not you."

"Please, Father!" Bran pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Bran." An idea formed quickly in my mind. Perhaps...

"Lord Stark? There are five pups," I tried. I had his interest, at least. "One for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them." All eyes turned to him. He sighed.

"You will train them yourselves, feed them yourselves...and if they die, you will bury them yourselves," he eventually agreed. Theon grit his teeth but resheathed his dagger and handed the pup back to Bran. I picked up two more puppies and gave them to Robb, who passed them on to Theon. Bran's voice sounded.

"What about you?" he wondered out loud. I faced him properly.

"I'm not a Stark. Get on," I replied, almost wincing at the bitterness that came with those words. As if I needed reminding. I knew Lady Catelyn loathed my presence in her house. I was the bastard; living, breathing proof my father had been messing around with another woman behind her back. A pest, something to be squashed before it bred and got out of control. I knew nearly everyone saw me that way. And I hated it. I remembered now why I wanted to join the Night's Watch in the first place.

As I stepped back up the slope to rejoin the others I heard another sound. A low whimper. Another pup? I investigated further, and saw a white bundle of fur curled up in fright at the base of a tree.

"What is it?" Robb asked me. I plucked the puppy up by the scruff of the neck. It was smaller than all the others, red-eyed and with a coat as white as...Snow.

"The runt of the litter. That one's yours, Snow," Theon mocked smugly. I ignored him and brought the little albino puppy into my arms.

I took Ghost (my name for the tiny pup) into the godswood. I needed to get away from Theon and his ilk for a while, and to at least try to train the wolf. He had taken to chewing my fingers. I suddenly remembered Lyara's question from that morning, and sure enough, she was sitting by the heart tree, looking more or less as she had done the day we met five years ago. Her dark waterfall of hair was tied strictly back in a thick ponytail, and her shining hazel-green eyes flickered up to meet my own. They quickly moved to Ghost, and she stood. "He's a beauty, isn't he?" she complimented, loping over to scratch behind the pup's ear. "Lovely fur for a dog."

"That's Ghost. His mother died, and left five other pups, so we took them," I explained.

"Well, I'm not an expert, but I think you've got a friend for life there," Lyara giggled as he bit my hand with his needle-sharp little teeth. I smiled too, in spite of myself. She never failed to put me in a good mood and I had always so loved the sound of her laughter. Like flowing water that served as a balm for my inner wounds. She'd always been the one who understood me, more than anyone else had bothered to even try, and she accepted me for who I was. Of course, Lyara's foster mother did not like our friendship. Lady Stark didn't care about me that much as to mind whom I was friends with-and Father didn't mind too much. Orla mainly didn't like it because she saw Lyara as her own daughter rather than what she was; and what self-respecting mother wants their child to be friends with a bastard child of their town's Lord? She saw the expression on my face and her eyes went steel-hard.

"Jon, what happened?"

"You don't need to concern yourself with me, Lyara. Can we just have peace today?" My voice was weary. She huffed, but said no more of it, instead giving me a one-armed hug and laying back down to play with Ghost, who had squirmed and wriggled in my arms until I had to put him down.


	2. Do I Or Don't I?

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, When You're Gone by the fantastic Avril Lavigne or a Song of Ice and Fire.

Chapter Two

**Lyara**

A few moments later, the sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves alerted Jon and I to another person in the woods. "We should leave," I whispered, scooping Ghost into my arms. "If someone's coming in to pray." The wolf pup shifted about, unhappy with his current position, but settled for nibbling my thumb. At least it kept him reasonably quiet. Jon took my hand, skirting around the trees to get to the gate. Lord Stark was sitting down by the time we got there, cleaning the sword that had been used to execute the Night's Watch deserter.

I only realised our hands were still clasped when we we halfway across the castle's courtyard. Our eyes met, and we quickly let go. I chuckled awkwardly, trying to hide my blush. "I'd better get going. Uh...goodbye, Jon." I remembered Ghost, and handed him back to his owner.

"Goodbye, Lyara," he mumbled, clearly just as surprised. He turned away, probably going inside, so I went to leave. "Lyara?" His voice called my name, and I turned back around. "May I walk you back to the blacksmith's?"

"...All right," I agreed, puzzled. He'd never asked specifically to walk me home before. Usually he would just do it. This time, however, for the first time in five years, we were silent.

All the years of playing together, practicing mock-tournaments with sticks, racing each other through the godswood-they would never fade in our memories but we could no longer be innocently friends. We were entering into the world of adulthood now. Of course holding hands would be awkward, we were seventeen-almost anything could be seen as signs of attraction. Did I love Jon? Did I want to love Jon, to be his wife and to carry his children in my belly? Did I know what I wanted? All the things I hadn't really thought about before were making themselves loudly and clearly heard. Over my holding hands with the boy who'd been my childhood playmate. Why was I even thinking about it now?! Why?!

Of course, because of the hormonal riot in my head, I began to look at Jon. Really look at him. He was admittedly very handsome, his curly black hair setting off a chiselled jawline and beautiful dark grey eyes. His clothes hid a sleek, well-toned body I'd only seen the upper half of once when I'd managed to make a massive tear in his shirt during swordplay, forcing him to remove it and go home for a fresh one. I hadn't even noticed it then. He was just Jon to me. I wanted to physically rip the thoughts out of my head. I darted inside the house as soon as we arrived, muttering a quick "I'll see you later, Jon. Thanks."

That night, I couldn't sleep. A hundred and one memories flashed through my mind, torturing me. My feelings for him, long dormant, seemed to bubble up all at once, making me think things I'd never even imagined I could. This was stupid, right? Just holding hands couldn't mean...not even possibly...I was just being an idiot. Wasn't I? I had no idea what to think. The Gods just had to disintegrate my sanity, didn't they? Argh, again with the questions! Eventually, I simply buried my face in my pillow and wept silently.

When Orla came into my room the next day I was already awake and dressed, sitting on my bed. "Lyara? What is it, sweetheart?" she asked, her brow creasing in concern-due to the obvious anomaly that I _was _awake and dressed. It usually means to anyone who thinks about it that I haven't slept all night and then wanted something to do. She sat down beside me, stroking a loose strand of hair away from my face. "You can tell me, love." And I burst into tears all over again. I never cry. In front of other people.

"It's Jon," I howled, gasping for air. "I think I love him and I can't tell him! I can't tell him...Gods Orla, how long have I felt this way and not known it?! And now I'm crying because we held hands yesterday, and he asked to walk me home...and I'm a mess!" I sobbed brokenly into her shirt. She patted my back, enfolding me in her arms.

"Ssh, ssh, ssh. Lyara, you know I don't appreciate your...closeness with this boy. He's not someone you should be friends with, for obvious reasons. But he is a good lad, and an honourable one, I'll give him that. Now, stop that silly wailing and think properly about what you just said. _Do _you love him?"

**Jon**

Lyara was taking longer than usual. I bit the inside of my cheek. I had left my sword at home-this time I just needed to talk to her. But after a few moments, it was not Lyara who appeared. It was Orla. She frowned at me. "Jon, can I speak with you in private for a moment?" My surprise probably showed on my face, but I nodded, stepping back. She closed the door.

"Is Lyara all right?" I questioned, worried.

"Never you mind about how my daughter is. I can tolerate your friendship, Jon, but Lyara has been crying because of you and I won't have it. You're not to see her for at least two weeks, do you understand me?" Her voice was cold, and her arms were folded defensively. "She needs time away from you, time to calm down, and to decide for herself what she wants to do about this. So I'm begging you, please stay away from my daughter."

I was shocked. Lyara had been-crying? I had never seen her cry, in all the years I'd known her. But crying because of me? That made it worse. What had I done to hurt her so badly and to make her want me to stay away from her? The little voice in my head that seemed to love taunting me laughed. _'Maybe she never liked you,' _it suggested. _'She was just humouring you because she felt sorry for the poor little bastard boy...'_ "No..." I whispered to myself. Lyara _liked _me, she was my _friend_. I couldn't bear to lose her. Out of habit, I trudged along the path to the field where she and I had always sparred together, but instead of sparring with her I sat on the fence and thought about what I would have said. I would have told her of my plans to leave Winterfell and to join the Night's Watch. That was the one secret I kept from Lyara. I was unsure of what her reaction would be, but now I wondered if she'd even care. Suddenly, I heard light footsteps tapping off the ground of the dirt path, and I was instantly relieved. But relief was replaced by disappointment as I saw two small children skip in, one a boy and the other a girl.

"Rhea, stop! I'm worn out!" the boy protested, his chest heaving. The girl merely giggled.

"Come on, Damien! You're so slow! Can't we just race back?" she pleaded. I smiled half-heartedly as they left, remembering a time when Lyara and I would race. She would always win. I was fast enough but she was built like a doe, lean and graceful, albeit her lankiness-she had clearly been made for speed and agility. I used my strength and mass to overpower her when we fought; she used her cunning and swift, dancing step to dodge my attack. We were a team-and I could not live without her even if she could live without me. I had, admittedly, been all too aware I was holding her hand when we had walked out of the godswood the previous day. I had wanted to hold her hand, to feel the warm, soft skin of her palm against the rough skin of mine. I had no idea why. And then last night I had lain awake, tossing and turning in my bed. Endless loops of doubts had run rabbit around my head. But all came to the same conclusion:

I was in love with Lyara Rierden.

I was scared when the thought finally occurred to me. Scared of the true feelings blossoming in my heart for the girl I had loved for five years; scared of the ideas running through my head. I still wanted to leave. The Wall was the best place for me. But staying meant I could be here and with Lyara. I had to follow my head this time. Perhaps it was better I stay away. It would make the separation less painful-for both of us.

_I always needed time on my own  
I never thought I'd need you there when I cry  
And the days feel like years when I'm alone  
And the bed where you lie is made up on your side_

The days passed slowly, and after the first week the pain had not subsided. What is it that people say about not being able to see the one you (think) you love? Distance makes the heart grow fonder? It was coming true for me. To top everything off, the Royal Family had decided to pay Winterfell a visit and would arrive within the next week or so. So you can guess what that meant. Everyone had to look their best, and for the older boys that usually meant-haircuts.

Robb went under the shearer's knife first. He didn't need much of a haircut, but Tommy started giving him a shave. "Why's your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the King?" I growled. I wouldn't say I was vain but I liked my hair the way it was.

"It's for the Queen, I bet," Theon answered. "I hear she's a sleek bit of mink."

"I hear the Prince is a right Royal prick," Robb joined in as Tommy finished.

"Think of all those Southern girls he gets to stab with his right Royal prick," Theon grinned wistfully. '_Oh, those lucky, lucky Southern girls,' _I thought sarcastically. Robb stood up, slapping my back as if to say, 'your turn.'

"Go on, Tommy, shear him good. He's never met a girl he likes better than his own hair," he teased. _'Not true_,' I muttered to myself-thankfully inside my head again.

_When you walk away I count the steps that you take  
Do you see how much I need you right now?_

When you're gone  
The pieces of my heart are missing you  
When you're gone  
The face I came to know is missing too

**Lyara**

"You need to look your best, Lyara," Orla chastised. She and I were having an oh so serious debate about trying to pretty me up and stick me in a dress for the Royal family's arrival. "You can't run around looking like a scruffy little tomboy."

"I never look like a scruffy little tomboy," I protested. "Just a normal seventeen-year-old girl-who maybe doesn't like the normal seventeen-year-old girl things." Even so, Orla was brandishing a hairbrush and a long blue dress-like the one she wears at feasts. I'd refused to go to the feast planned for tonight, at any rate. Usually when one was on, Jon and I would-

And there it was. I'd tried not to think about him, almost to the point of frustration. But Jon Snow would not leave my mind alone. The hole that used to be him wasn't healing. Instead it was festering, ripping open wider and preventing me from even sleeping. As soon as I closed my eyes, his face was there and he was smiling. Gods, his face always looked even more handsome when he smiled, when he laughed. My heart was crying out for him-and it was tearing me apart.

_When you're gone  
The words I need to hear to always get me through  
The day, and make it okay  
I miss you_

Orla got her way with my hair, but the dress was another story. She gave up after a few minutes of trying to force me to put it on, and settled for brushing the tangles out of my thick hair, not trusting me to do it myself. How tragic. When she was done, my hair flowed down to the small of my back, smooth and knot-free. "See how pretty you are if you just _bother_ a bit," she laughed gleefully. I smiled without feeling anything. I tried hard to put on a brave face for her and my family every day, but that mask cracked at night when I had nothing to do but let the bottled tears that constricted my chest stream down my face. I knew all too well it was pathetic and Jon probably didn't feel the same, but I still wanted him. Even needed him, like the stars needed night to shine, and a bird needed wings to fly.

I ended up in my only decent clothes that hadn't been put through sparring practice, my long-sleeved brown tunic and a pair of unworn grey leggings. My hair was left loose and tumbled freely down my shoulders. I scrubbed my boots, and everyone else's, getting several months' worth of dry mud and bits of grass off before I could consider them even remotely clean.

_I've never felt this way before  
Everything that I do reminds me of you  
And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor  
And they smell just like you, and of the things that you do_

_When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?_

All of the Winterfell common population was also to gather in the castle's courtyard. I knew I'd see him there, but there was no avoiding it anyway. I couldn't hide forever. As I followed Orla, Richard and Kirren into the wolf's den, as some of us called it, I felt someone's gaze hit me with full force. My eyes locked to his without thinking, and it was if I'd been punched in the stomach. All the walls I'd rebuilt, layered with resolve to insulate them, fell down in succession. Crash. _Crash. _**CRASH**. All utterly destroyed with one dark grey glance. His eyes held mine, soulful and even hurt because we'd been ordered to stay apart. I love Orla, I do, with all of my heart, but my best guess is that she told him that I wanted it, that I'd asked her to tell him to back off. So that he really would. I noticed, vaguely, that he was clean-shaven and that his hair had been cut. One of my more delirious fantasies was of running my fingers through its soft dark curliness. He looked so handsome, so wonderful, and that gorgeous face hid a beautiful soul and personality. And his well-fitting clothes certainly hid, as I've mentioned before, a well-muscled and taut body.

But he most likely hated me now. I would hate me. I didn't deserve Jon Snow's love.

**Jon**

The very first thing I noticed about Lyara was that her hair was down. I had never cared much before, but I'd never seen it down, not once in five years. Brushed out and tangle-free, it looked less wild, more like silk as it waved perfectly down over her shoulders. I'd never thought about how long it was. It was just as long as Sansa's, if not longer. It contrasted against her skin, rich sable brown against skin almost translucent in its tone.

Of course she had flaws. Flaws I loved, such as the endearing splash of freckles that dotted her nose that she hated with a passion, the long scar that ran its length down her shoulder and arm from falling in her foster-father's workshop as a child, her clumsiness, and even her formidable temper. Her slender, lean body was accentuated by the earthy brown tunic she wore, despite its gangling length. She was nearly as tall as I was-though not likely to grow much more. I despised Theon's womanizing view of girls, but even my eyes strayed along her sheath-like hips and small, firm breasts. A warrior's body, in female form. And her confidence, her sheer stubborn determination, her never-give-up attitude and of course her easy smile she wore like any other girl would wear her favourite necklace. But that lovely smile was not there when I caught her gaze, neither was the fierce light that shone out of her kind eyes. There was simply defeat in her face. Defeat and the strangest note of longing. I knew my eyes portrayed pain as I looked at her, pain because she'd broken my heart and then mended it all over again, pain because she wanted me to leave her alone and pain because I missed her with all my heart and loved her just as much. I wanted to run to her, take her in my arms and hold her like I would never let go. But what good would it be to begin a relationship such as that with her now, when I'd be going as soon as I could to the Wall?

_When you're gone  
The pieces of my heart are missing you  
And when you're gone  
The face I came to know is missing too_

And when you're gone  
The words I need to hear to always get me through  
The day, and make it okay  
I miss you

"Where's Arya?" Lady Stark asked suddenly, looking around and distracting me from Lyara. "Sansa, where's your sister?" My red-haired half-sister shrugged, disinterested, inciting tutting from her mother. I panned the surrounding area. Where _was_ Arya? After a few seconds, her small figure came scurrying along, half her face hidden by a Winterfell guard helmet she'd purloined a few days before. A smile came to my lips as Father caught her arm.

"What are you doing with that on? Go on," he chuckled, taking it from her and handing it to Ser Rodrik. She looked crestfallen, but went into line.

"Move," she growled at poor Bran, shoving him irritatedly. The Right Royal Prick (or Prince Joffrey, as he's more commonly known) entered the courtyard first with a Kingsguard and a man with a helmet shaped like a dog's head. Sansa's head turned to face the Prince, and I had a good idea of the little cat-like smile that would be on her own lips. Robb didn't seem too happy at any rate, looking first at her and then at Joffrey, who had a smug little smirk on his face that I instantly disliked. The carriage soon followed, carrying the Queen and her other, hopefully more likeable, children. Then the King made his own entrance, flanked by guards and servants.

_We were made for each other  
Out here forever  
I know we were, yeah_

And all I ever wanted was for you to know  
In everything I do, I give my heart and soul  
I can hardly breathe I need to feel you're here with me, yeah

All of us, Starks, guards and villagers, knelt on the ground in respect. King Robert Baratheon dismounted (with the aid of a mounting block and a servant) and strode to stand in front of my father. He gestured for everyone to stand. "Your Grace," Father acknowledged, bowing his head. The King looked down.

"You've got fat," he observed. Hypocritically. Father looked down at _his _belly, as if to express that. The King laughed heartily, and clapped him on the back. "Cat!" Robert exclaimed, giving her a bear hug.

"Your Grace," she replied, as he ruffled Rickon's hair.

"Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?" This was directed at my father. Meanwhile, the other children and the handmaidens of the Queen assembled in front of the carriage, and the Queen herself came out. She was certainly very beautiful, but had a look in her eyes that I distrusted as she gazed upon the welcome party.

"Guarding the North for you, your Grace. Winterfell is yours."

"Where's the Imp?" Arya whispered to Sansa.

"Will you shut up?!" the latter snapped. Robert moved along the line.

"Who have we here? You must be Robb," he greeted, shaking my brother's hand. "Aye, you're a pretty one," he grinned to Sansa. He stopped at Arya, squinting at her. "And your name is?"

"Arya," she answered, moving back just a little bit. He finally got to Bran.

"Oh. Show us your muscles." Bran complied, flexing his bicep hopefully. Robert laughed good-naturedly. "You'll be a soldier."

A gold-clad Kingsguard removed his helmet, shaking out his beech brown hair. "That's Jaime Lannister, the Queen's twin brother!" Arya gasped.

"Would you please shut up," Sansa repeated, angry. Queen Cersei held her hand out for Father to kiss. He did so, bowing.

"My Queen," he murmured.

"My Queen," Lady Catelyn echoed, curtsying.

"Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects," Robert ordered.

"You've been riding for a month, my love," Cersei argued sweetly. "Surely the dead can wait."

"Ned," Robert called, ignoring his wife and walking off already. Father followed.

"Where's the Imp?" Arya asked again. Cersei went to her twin.

"Where is our brother? Go and find the little beast," she hissed. As the Royals, the servants and everyone else from King's Landing departed to unpack and do their jobs, the crowd began to disperse. I couldn't spot Lyara amongst them, but I went out of the archway and looked again. Finally, I saw her, walking with her family back home. I ran, and caught her arm.

_When you're gone  
The pieces of my heart are missing you  
And when you're gone  
The face I came to know is missing too_

"Lyara," I pleaded. Orla and Richard turned back. Richard frowned, but said nothing, leaving with Kirren.

"Lyara," warned Orla. Her glare turned to me. "What have I told you about my daughter?"

"Please, Orla. I must talk to her," I protested.

"I don't care. You take your filthy hands off of her and leave her alone."

"Will both of you stop it?!" Lyara yelled. "Orla...can we not just talk for ten minutes?"

"No. Come away, Lyara." My best friend hesitated, backing away closer to me. "Lyara Rierden, I said _come away_!" She sighed, and gave in.

"I'm so sorry, Jon," she whispered, walking away. My eyes filled with betrayed tears that I forced back as I stared after her.

And when you're gone  
All the words I need to hear will always get me through  
The day, and make it okay  
I miss you


	3. Reunited

Disclaimer-I do not own Game of Thrones, a Song of Ice and Fire, or Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye. I merely own any characters not seen in the books or TV show, because I made them up. Just to mention, nearly all of this chapter is from Jon's point of view.

Chapter Three

**Lyara**

"Why did you do that?! There was no need to be so cruel to Jon!" I shouted.

"He hurt you, he made you cry! Lyara, I think of you as my own daughter, and I'm not going to stand back as you get hurt all over again!" Orla argued, just as loudly. "I forbid you to see that boy again. Not just for two weeks this time, but I think something more permanent would be better."

"Orla, I love him!"

Silence passed as I confirmed what I'd only thought a short time ago. She looked at me with both anger and confusion.

"Lyara, you're too young to even know the meaning of love yet."

"I do know the meaning of love! If I didn't know the meaning of love, I wouldn't know how it felt, and if I'm certain about anything it's that I love Jon Snow just as much as you, or Richard, or Kirren! There's a different meaning of love for everyone, Orla, and mine is that he makes me feel as if I'm flying when I'm with him! I smile when I'm with him, and it's killing me to be apart from him!" She closed her eyes.

"You're going to get hurt."

"You don't know that."

_Now and then I think of when we were together  
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die  
Told myself that you were right for me  
But felt so lonely in your company  
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember_

**Jon**

Lady Catelyn stood outside the hall, beckoning me as I came past. I stopped compliantly-wondering what I'd done this time. "I think it would be best if you didn't attend the feast," she said, getting straight to the point. "It could insult the Royal family to have the...illegitimate child amongst them." I nodded, unsurprised.

"As you wish, my Lady," I answered, turning back. I wondered why she didn't want to say 'bastard'. I never really went to feasts anyway. I'd get my own food in the kitchens later. I half-wondered if Lyara would go-but she never had done in the past. We'd generally play when we were younger and spar as we got older. This time I was going to be alone. And this time I'd prefer it. I never wanted to love a girl again, because they'd just break your heart and leave without a backward glance. I did want, however, a sign that I was wrong, that she did care, that we could at least still be friends. Not much point, as after a while I'd probably never see her again, but it would make me able to leave in peace.

_You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness  
Like resignation to the end, always the end  
So when we found that we could not make sense  
Well you said that we would still be friends  
But I'll admit that I was glad it was over_

I picked up a sword from the armoury, meaning to practice on one of the target dummies outside in the courtyard. It wasn't like sparring with an actual person and was almost dull, but even so I had no other choice. I began to get stuck in to my work, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, not noticing anyone or anything else until a wonderfully familiar voice rang through the air. "Is it dead yet?" I turned around to see my Uncle, dressed all in black, riding from the Wall. He dismounted, coming towards me.

"Uncle Benjen!" I grinned in delight. We hugged each other.

"You've got bigger! I rode all day-didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannisters," he joked. He hesitated a second. "Why aren't you at the feast?"

_But you didn't have to cut me off  
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing  
And I don't even need your love  
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough  
No you didn't have to stoop so low  
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number  
I guess that I don't need that, though  
Now you're just somebody that I used to know_

"Lady Stark thought it might insult the Royal family to seat a bastard in their midst." He nodded.

"Well, you're always welcome on the Wall. No bastard was ever refused a seat there."

"So take me with you when you go back." His face fell.

"Jon-"

"Father will let me if you ask him. I know he will." Hope shone through my voice, with something akin to desperation.

"The Wall isn't going anywhere."

"I'm ready, to swear your oath." My Uncle sighed, smiling wanly.

_Now you're just somebody that I used to know  
Now you're just somebody that I used to know_

"You don't understand what you'd be giving up. We have no families-none of us will ever father sons-"

"I don't care about that!"

"You might, if you knew what it meant." He looked towards the open door. "Now, I'd better go inside. Rescue your father from his guests. We'll talk later." With that, he left. I sighed myself, and walked back over to my practice-until yet another person wanted to talk to me. I was beginning to hate people.

"Your Uncle's in the Night's Watch," he observed, walking out of the shadows. He was the shortest man I'd ever seen, and my mind immediately labelled him as being Tyrion Lannister.

"What're you doing back there?" I demanded.

"Preparing for a night with your family. I've always wanted to see the Wall," he mused, leaning against a wooden post.

"You're Tyrion Lannister. The Queen's brother?"

"My greatest accomplishment. And you, you're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" I scowled at him before turning away and walking off. "Oh, did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though."

"Lord Eddard Stark is my father," I interjected.

"And Lady Stark is not your mother. Making you-the bastard. Let me give you some advice, bastard." I looked away, focusing on a random clump of straw across from where I was standing. "Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour-and it can never be used to hurt you."

"What the hell d'you know about being a bastard?" I growled at his retreating back.

He turned back to me, a rueful and resigned expression on his face. "All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes." Tyrion finally left, taking a long drink from his wineskin. I stared after him, and was about to return yet again to my practice when a shadow caught my eye. It was standing just by the entrance, watching. I frowned, startled. It was just standing there. I peered at it in the growing dark, and saw that it was a girl. Tall. About my age. My heart skipped several beats.

_Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over  
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done  
But I don't wanna live that way  
Reading into every word you say  
You said that you could let it go  
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know_

"_Lyara_," I breathed. She'd come to see me. "LYARA!" I ran towards her, but she didn't wait. She sprinted away. But there was no stopping me this time. I dove onto her, pinning her fast beneath me so she couldn't get up.

"Get-off-me," she gasped. "I can't breathe!" I sat back on my haunches, still pinning her legs to the floor but allowing her breathing room. She gulped in several breaths before relaxing. "What the fuck did you jump on me for?!"

"So you couldn't run away like the idiot you're acting at the moment," I snapped. "What is going on to make you first of all want to avoid me, then leave me in the street, then come here and spy on me?" She sat up as much as she could, exhaling slowly through her nose.

"I didn't want to avoid you, Jon. I was told to. I tried sneaking out twice to see you but Richard caught me both times and then said I was to stay in or I'd be for it. He's not that fussed about you and I but Orla is and he sides with her on everything. I had to leave you today because otherwise they'd have stayed tonight and kept an eye on me, and I came to see you tonight because I had the chance. And I'm not the only one keeping secrets," Lyara finished, looking angry. "You could have told me you were going to leave Winterfell!"

Oh, shit.

_But you didn't have to cut me off  
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing  
And I don't even need your love  
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough  
No you didn't have to stoop so low  
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number  
I guess that I don't need that, though  
Now you're just somebody that I used to know_

"You heard me and Uncle Benjen?" I questioned, aghast.

"I heard you. Gods, Jon, if you were that unhappy here I'd have thought you'd tell me."

"How was I supposed to?! You don't know what it's like! You were raised by a family who loved you, even gave you their last name! You can't say that I should have told you because you wouldn't have understood!"

"Yes, I would've! Or even if I hadn't I would've tried, because you mean that much to me!"

"I mean something to you? Clearly I don't mean that much to you, or you would have done something about this bloody restraining order that Orla's been putting down!" At that, she lay back down, quiet.

_Somebody  
(I used to know)  
Somebody  
(Now you're just somebody that I used to know)_

"Do you think I don't feel guilty enough about that?" she whispered. "Every single day the guilt, the shame, the empty space where you were in my life crushed me until I was too exhausted to sleep at night from the mask I wore around everyone. That's why Orla didn't want me to see you. She was afraid that I would get hurt. And despite everything, I have. So let me up, and I can get out of your life and go back to mine."

"No."

"Why? It's obvious you don't want me here." Lyara's hazel eyes were nearly pleading now. "Please, Jon. Just let me go."

"Lyara, we need to talk about this."

"I'm sorry-but I'm done talking."

"I'm not."

"Can you at least get off my legs, then? My circulation's being cut off." I relented and removed my calves from her thighs, satisfied she wasn't going to run. She sat up, sighing in relief, and began to massage the blood back into her legs.

_Somebody  
(I used to know)  
Somebody  
(Now you're just somebody that I used to know)_

_(I used to know)  
(That I used to know)  
(I used to know)  
Somebody..._

"Thanks," she mumbled. "So, the Night's Watch, huh?"

"Yes."

"Hope you find whatever it is you're looking for." Lyara stood up, dusting herself off. "Goodbye, Jon." I kept silent until she took a step.

"Stay. Please. I'd like it if you slept here tonight," I confessed. She bit her lip before her broad, rebel smile came to her face.

"I'm going to get skinned alive for this. Somehow, it doesn't seem to matter." I tried extremely hard to keep a straight face, but in the end, as always, Lyara Rierden made me grin too.

We had to sneak most of the way to my bedchamber, to avoid being seen by any of Lady Stark's men who might report I was walking through the castle with a girl-none of them knew Lyara. Thankfully, most of them were at the feast and the remainder stationed outside, nowhere near where I needed to get. I shut the door behind us and revelled in the privacy. Of course, she'd slept in my room on many occasions when we'd been children; and I in hers on not so many an occasion. Mostly in the same bed if we could get away with it. Orla put a stop to it after we'd both turned fifteen, as a precaution to anything we might...get up to.

Now, however, I lay back on my bed with an arm around Lyara's waist, her almost asleep after only ten minutes or so. As she finally gave in to her exhaustion, she rolled over, crossing the small gap between our bodies and snuggling closer into my side, her head resting on my chest until I was essentially holding her. It felt nice, even natural. I put my other arm around her, relaxing into the embrace, and closed my eyes.

_Blood. Blood is everywhere. Staining the ground, the trees, even the sky with its oozing crimson shade. The pungent coppery stink invades my nostrils, and I look around for the source. There are bodies littering the forest I seem to be in. I am afraid to look at their faces, but I can't stop myself and see people I know. _

_Ser Rodrik. Maester Luwin. Bran, Arya, Robb, Sansa, even little Rickon. Tears spring to my eyes. My father lies in his own insides, eyes filmed and glassy. My knees give way, my clothes soaking up the blood. The stench grows stronger, and I see a body gutted on a spear directly in front of me. I don't need to look to know who it is. Her wavy sable hair is matted with a rusty sheen, her mouth open in a silent scream. _

_I can no longer move my legs to flee, no matter how hard I try to will them to stand and run from this horrible place. _

_Blood is suddenly filling my mouth, my throat, pouring from my nose and dripping down my face in wet, red tears. I can't breathe..._

I gasped as the nightmare released me from its clutches, sweat beading on my forehead in fat droplets. Dawn was clearly just breaking outside, the delicate blue-grey sky streaked with hundreds upon hundreds of different colours. It made me dizzy just looking at them. I sighed and let my head fall back onto the pillow. I wasn't getting to sleep again anytime soon.

I remembered Lyara, and looked down to find her still asleep, safe and sound in my arms. What a dream to have on a night like this! She snored softly, a slight rumble in her throat. The look on her face was calmer than I'd seen her in a long time, all worries and frustrations erased from her face, which would return again when she awoke. I knew I had probably added to the amount she would have to face today-and I wouldn't be let off lightly either. Orla and Richard had certainly noticed her absence by now-in fact; I was amazed they hadn't searched for her here already. At least the peace remained for now.

Lyara's dark hair was tangled from moving around in her sleep, and I was suddenly filled with a curiosity to touch it. The sable locks were so similar to my own, yet so different because they belonged to her. Orla hated to cut her hair, often putting it off for months before she'd eventually sit down with a knife. I exhaled loudly as my fingers felt the ruffled mess. It had the texture of silk where the knots hadn't yet formed and the texture of frayed rope where they had. The contrast was strangely wonderful, if slightly odd.

I would miss this, but I knew what I had to do. Not even Lyara could make me stay here when I didn't belong.


	4. Fall Into You

I don't own Game of Thrones, or A Song of Ice and Fire. What I do own is the massive gratitude to those who bother to review, follow and favourite this. Thanks so much to you guys!

Chapter Four

**Flashback **

"_Jon, have you ever wondered how high the sky goes?" I asked, my twelve-year-old mind fixated on this single thought. It was a sunny day for once, albeit a little chilly, and we were lying stretched out near the heart-tree. He raised an eyebrow at me. _

"_Not really," he replied. "I don't tend to think about things like that. What's the point?"_

"_Sometimes I feel the sky must be hundreds of thousands of miles away. How high would you have to climb just to touch it?"_

_Jon thought about it, hair falling over his face as his brow creased in concentration. "That ironwood tree over at the other side of the godswood is the biggest tree in Winterfell. Maybe if you climbed up there you could reach the sky." I sat up, grinning._

"_I have an idea."_

_I leaped off the ground, landing straight on my right foot to start running, and Jon a moment behind me. I tried to avoid anything that could trip me up, sometimes failing. But I reached the massive tree, panting with exertion, the sweat beading on my neck. The ironwood loomed in front of me, darkening the path with its even bigger shadow. Richard had told me it was planted the day the world began. I had a feeling he was right._

_I heard Jon behind me, his quiet footsteps halting at my side. I smiled breathlessly. "I'd better get climbing then," I announced. His eyes widened._

"_Are you mad? You'll fall! Lyara-"_

"_I'll be fine! Where's your courage gone, Jon Snow?" Before he could say anything, I pulled myself determinedly onto the lowest and first branch. Jumping up to wrap my arms and legs around the next one, and the next, and the next, until I was halfway up the tree and Jon was almost a pinprick below. The sky awaited me, I couldn't let it down. But as my hand grasped the next bough, and my entire body weight relied on it, it snapped, sending me plummeting to the world below._

"_LYARA!" _

**Lyara**

I woke before I hit the ground, and the end of the memory came to me. I had landed on Jon; or rather he had caught me before getting knocked off his feet. He'd yelled at me never to do that again before storming off and leaving me to go home alone. The day after, we met again in the sparring field, and spent the entire day there, friends once more.

In reality, I was once again lying on Jon, except in a much more comfortable position and five years later. He was already awake and looking at me with tranquillity in his lovely grey eyes. "Good morning," I yawned, my lips settling into a smile as the excess influx of air left my lungs. His right arm was wound around my waist from the back, his left around my shoulders and chest from the front. I was snuggled into his side, my head on his chest, and in a state of complete bliss.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" he asked, a smile playing around his own lips. Clearly, he was in a good mood today.

"Fine. How were the past few hours when you were awake?" He shook his head, sighing.

"Lyara, how exactly do you know that?"

"You've got dark circles under your eyes and you're desperately trying to hide the fact that you want to yawn. Jon, what's wrong?"

"It was merely a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." I raised my eyebrows, but decided not to push him any further and got off the bed.

"I have to go. Orla and Richard are going to kill me as it is, I may as well be on time for my execution." Jon rose.

"I'll walk you to the castle gates."

"Jon..."

"Lyara, I'm walking you to the castle gates. No arguments."

"But-" He put his finger to my lips and shook his head again.

"No."

What had possessed him to insist on that so strongly I had no idea. If we were seen together after I'd buggered off without telling anyone, the beholder would instantly assume...well, the worst(in their eyes). Not that I gave a flying fuck. I absentmindedly followed Jon down the hallway, not concentrating much on my path and therefore tripping over my own feet every two seconds. We both snorted with laughter at the sixth time, returning me to my senses, forcing me to wipe away tears of mirth from my eyes. "You are the maddest girl I've ever met," Jon grinned.

"Mad yourself," I huffed, sticking out my tongue like a child and smiling. His eyes took on an unfamiliar expression. One I couldn't read. Soft, but fiery at the same time. And focused on me.

"You look beautiful when you smile," he mumbled, a slight flush colouring his cheeks. I, less subtle, blushed a bright crimson, looking to the floor to hide it.

"Uh...thank you..." I stammered. My tongue felt like lead in my mouth.

Something happened then that took me completely by surprise at the time, despite myself and the errant dreams I'd had in the previous weeks. I barely even registered anything else as Jon Snow grabbed me quicker than lightning and kissed me.

My heart pounded in my chest, my lips taking on a mind of their own as they returned the kiss just as passionately. I couldn't think. I could barely breathe. But it felt so, so good. My mouth opened of its own accord, allowing our tongues to meet. Somehow, we were moving backwards, so my spine was pressed against the wall. We had to stop as a voice echoed through the corridor. "Ay, ay! What's this?"

"Fuck off, Greyjoy," I hissed. Theon ignored me completely.

"Well then, Snow. Didn't think you had it in you!" he snickered.

"Do I need to say it again? _Fuck off_."

"All right, I'm going. Just try not to fuck in the hallway." I watched his retreating back, seething. Jon sighed, annoyed, but turned his attention to me.

"I'm sorry. I just...had to do that, just once," he apologized.

"I didn't exactly put up a fight, Jon. You shouldn't be sorry." I pulled him back by his leather jerkin and gently pressed our lips together once more. "I have to go."

**Jon**

I could still taste Lyara's lips as she left. It had been foolish to let my hormones rule me in the instant I had kissed her. I was two seconds away from taking her back to my bedchambers, and would have if Theon had not interrupted. That interruption was both a good thing and a bad thing. Good because I would be leaving for the Wall hopefully within the next two weeks and to bed Lyara would ultimately have ruined any resolve I had, and bad because I would have enjoyed bedding her. Or at least, that's what my aching groin was telling me. I winced as it threatened to stiffen. Wonderful.

My stomach rumbled; only now realising it was hungry. I got some bread from the kitchens before heading in the general direction of the courtyard to see if I could find my Uncle Benjen. As luck would have it, I was stopped by him halfway there, and my heart skipped several beats at the look on his face. His usual laughing eyes held a tint of sadness. "Uncle," I acknowledged respectfully.

"Jon. I talked to your father last night," he told me.

"And?"

"He gives his permission for you to join us at Castle Black. We leave tomorrow." My face split into a grin. Finally! But my joy was encumbered by the sorrow in his eyes, behind the smile. "Jon...it's not too late for you to stay."

**Lyara**

"_How dare you?! _Sneaking off to see that bastard boy in the middle of the night! I knew we should have stayed and kept an eye on you. That's the final straw, Lyara! What were you doing? Tell me, and if you lie to me I swear to the Seven that you'll be sorry!" Orla screamed.

"I didn't do anything! I just slept in Jon's bedchambers for the night! What, do you think he fucked me? Did you think his baby was quickening in my belly? Well you were wrong!" I shouted. I barely got a chance to say it before she slapped me, hard and fast, full across my face. Both of us stood there, in complete shock. She sank down onto a chair.

"I'm sorry that I hit you. Lyara...I love you as if you were my own, you know that, don't you?" I frowned. Where was this going? "And if I could cope, I wouldn't have done this."

"What do you mean?"

"Richard and I thought long and hard about this, but last night, as I said, was the final straw. We're...we're sending you away."

Nothing could have prepared me for those four little words. My stomach clenched. "You're sending me away? Where?"

"To King's Landing. You'll train as a Septa there. It's already decided-you leave next week." She put her head in her hands, soft sobs coming from her throat. "I didn't want to do it, Lyara. You've just become so wild I really can't cope with you anymore!" I was blinded by the tears that suddenly welled in my eyes. I had let Orla down. I had let my family down. Of course they would send me away! I brushed the teardrops away, trying to stop them falling. Maybe if I did as I was told for once, they would be proud. Training as a Septa was a noble occupation.

But it wasn't mine.

Try as I might, I couldn't will myself to obey. I couldn't waste my life like that! To waste all those years of archery practise and sparring on what? Teaching highborn girls how to act like a lady? I couldn't help but inwardly laugh at that. If I was anything, it wasn't ladylike. I remembered Jon's Uncle Benjen. Was he looking for new recruits? An idea began to blossom in my mind.

I'd have to act soon. I wasn't sure when Benjen Stark was leaving but I was going with him, no matter what. I went back down to Orla. She raised her head, eyes still sore and red, still glistening with tears. She saw the question in my eyes.

"Yes," she murmured brokenly. "Just this once. Go. Say goodbye."

"Thank you," I mumbled. I sprinted outside, through the town and into the castle courtyard. I couldn't see Jon. Apparently though, he could see me.

"Lyara?" His voice came from behind me. I turned around, and my heart instantly melted again at the sight of his slate grey irises.

"Jon," I sighed, relieved. He frowned.

"What's wrong? After last night I would have thought-"

"No. Well, yes, but it's worse than that." He took my hand, leading me towards the godswood.

"Come on. We need to talk."

We stopped at the weirwood as we had thousands of times before, but as he sat down he opened his arms for me to fall into for the first time. An invitation I gladly accepted. "You first," I offered.

"My father's granted my request to join the Night's Watch," he began. My heart rose, then sank. I'd be around Jon for the rest of my life, which was a great thing, but what if he could recognize me after I'd disguised myself as a boy? Damn, this would be harder than I had originally thought. "I leave for the Wall tomorrow to take the Black."

"Congratulations," I smiled half-heartedly. "I'm happy for you."

"We both know that that's not true." Jon shook his head in mock-exasperation. "But thank you for trying. What about you?" He began to stroke my hair, and it was impossible to think clearly while that was going on.

"I-uh-I..." I turned to jelly in his arms. "Could you please stop doing that so I can think coherently?" He smiled wryly and paused in his hair-stroking. I took a deep breath, remembering when I had done this and burst into tears in front of Orla. This time I regained my composure. "Orla's sending me away to the Capital," I confessed, and my voice broke despite my efforts. His face went slack with shock.

"What?! Why? Lyara, what happened?"

"She said today was the final straw, that she couldn't cope with me anymore and that I was being sent to King's Landing to be trained as a Septa. I let her down. I let them all down." He stared at me for a moment, and then hugged me tighter. I felt him bury his face in my hair, his warm breath tickling and his full, soft lips brushing the top of my head as he nuzzled me.

"I'm so, so sorry, Lyara," he said thickly, muffled. "It's my fault-if I hadn't asked you to-"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" My yell echoed through the godswood, sending birds flying from their trees. "Don't you dare blame yourself, Jon Snow. I fucked up, and there's no-one to blame but me."

"You really are an amazing creature. You take the weight of the world on your shoulders yet when someone offers to help bear the burden you refuse."

We stayed like that for half an hour, him holding me and nuzzling my head, I with my arms wrapped around his middle in the cradle of his arms. "I don't want to go to the Capital," I muttered. He half-smiled ruefully and kissed the top of my head again.

"I know." Tightening his grip around me, Jon stood up, pulling me upright too. "I'm going to miss you, Lyara Rierden. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me." Tears threatened again. I wiped them away and locked eyes with him.

"I am really, really going to miss you," I snuffled, voice breaking. He nodded, grey eyes shimmering for a moment too. I didn't see if he cried, because he lifted me into an embrace that felt so bittersweet my heart literally broke and mended again. Then he left, and I was alone, just like the time when we were twelve. My legs collapsed then, and I allowed myself to weep as much as my soul wanted to. I could only do this for five minutes though because I heard a maddeningly familiar voice.

"What are you crying about?" Theon Greyjoy inquired, his voice mocking. I snorted, wiped my sleeve across my eyes and glared at him.

"What's it to you, Theon?" I growled, meaning to sound angry but instead sounding weary. His face showed surprise.

"You never call me Theon. You're either really upset or you're finally warming to me." He sat down beside me.

"I'm neither, and the day I stick pins in my eyes will be the day I warm to you."

"I know how to cheer you up." Theon wiggled his eyebrows. "If you're willing." I groaned in disgust.

"I will never be willing to fuck you."

"You'd be surprised about what you'll be willing to do with me..." He began to push my hair away from my face, leaning in to kiss my neck. I started to try to push him off me as I found myself pinned under him, struggling to get leverage. He had a good fifty pounds on me in solid muscle alone. His lips and teeth introduced themselves to my throat anyway, and I was beginning to get furious. How dare he treat me like a whore he could have at will?

"Get-off-OF-ME!" I snarled, pushing with all my strength. He fell backwards onto his arse, dazed. "Don't you even think of pulling an act like that again! Or it won't just be your pitiful cock I'll slice off, Greyjoy."

"And there I thought we'd moved on from Greyjoy. What happened to Theon?"

"You can shove that up your arse. I'm off-try not to rape anyone on the way home."

"You're still bitter about me catching you with your tongue down Snow's throat?"

"You thank your Drowned God that you're stupid enough to be let off on that one."

"I think I can beat a _girl _in a fight," Theon scoffed.

"To reiterate; you're stupid enough to be let off. Shut your unholy gob or I'll bloody shut it for you." I turned on my heel and marched out of the godswood.

I ran upstairs the moment that I entered my home. I would have less than twenty minutes to grab some clothes from Kirren's room before he got back from work with Richard. I chose ones he wouldn't easily miss, ones close to my own size but still loose enough to cover my breasts and to pad my lanky, but unmistakeably female shape. I also took a pair of boots I had never seen him wear and a thick cloak. Jon would recognize my own travel cloak instantly if I was just two seconds under his eye. Sneaking back to my own room, I hid the clothes under the mattress, hoping no-one would notice they were missing and come for a look around.

I insisted I wasn't hungry, refusing supper. Orla was doubtful, asking me if I was sickening for something, but went back downstairs to eat, leaving me alone. She'd stop in later, so I had to be careful about my actions and what I left lying around just in case.

Thankfully my sword, bow and quiver resided in my room, but my armguards were another matter. I'd have to forego them if I was to get out in time. I wasn't thankful however for the time to think that this was giving me. Was going to the Wall the right answer? I would never see Orla and Richard again. I could never be intimate with Jon or anyone else, ever again. Jon I would have had to give up anyway, but at least this way I could still be his friend. Was that so bad? The majority of my brain screamed yes, forcing me to remember the feel of his full lips caressing mine, his rough skinned, gentle hands stroking my hair, waking up with him, his arms wrapped around me. The other part said no. Sure, I could never marry him, make love to him, bear his children, or even kiss him again. But I could be with him for the rest of my days and that was something I'd give anything for. It was this that kept me going, gave me the strength to cut my waist-length hair off to my chin, put the clothes on barring cloak and boots and leap into bed to pretend to sleep before Orla came in.

She sighed at my (false) peaceful state of sleep. "Goodnight, Lyara," she whispered.

**Jon**

"JON!" Robb yelled, wild with fright and panic. "Come quick!" My eyes widened. What was going on? They'd only been back a few hours from the hunt, what could have happened?

I ran, racing towards my brother. He held something, something that looked suspiciously like...oh no. Oh, Gods, NO!

Bran's crumpled, lifeless body lay still in Robb's arms. "He's still breathing!"

Tears began to run, thick and fast, down my face. They blinded me, and I furiously rubbed them away before sprinting to call for help. "HELP! Anyone! HELP!" Ser Rodrik was the first there, followed by Jory and even more closely followed by Father.

"Jon? What is it?" Lord Stark's voice rumbled.

"Bran! He's fallen! Father, help!" My voice was cracking like a young boy's. Father's face blanched in shock and horror.

"Get him indoors and lying down. NOW!"

His shout was full of authority, and sent people running. We carried Bran, careful not to move him much, up to his room, startling Old Nan as she sat by the fire. He was laid down on the bed. Then a heartbroken shriek like a wounded animal's ripped through the air.

"My baby!" Catelyn Stark cried, sobbing brokenly. "Not my Bran! Please, no!" She clawed her way through to him, holding Bran's little head and wailing, completely grief-stricken. Father put his arms around her, holding her, rocking her, murmuring to her. The crowd dispersed. Soon I was the only other left in the room. Catelyn looked at me. "Get OUT, bastard," she hissed, choking on a sob and glaring at me. I fled, escaping to my bedchambers, locked the door and fell on the bed, letting the tears fall and form in my throat until I was gagging on them. I barely even notice my eyelids drooping until I'm asleep.

_I'm in bed. This doesn't feel like a nightmare; it doesn't have the oppressing, apprehensive air to it. Another person sleeps soundly beside me. As she rolls over I can see Lyara's face. I'm suspicious now, am I sure it's not a nightmare? She looks so soft, so vulnerable as she slumbers. Like a little girl. She appears to be a few years older, in her early twenties, more a woman. None of this shocks me so much as the fact that we're both under the covers of the same bed, completely naked. I go to rub my eyes and see a slim silver band on my left index finger; a wedding ring. The matching one is on Lyara's left index._

_Not a nightmare. A possible future, maybe? I reach out to her, go to wrap my arms around her waist, and find something unfamiliar. Her usually slender abdomen is swollen, creating a large, prominent bump that stands out from the rest of her body. It takes me a moment but I soon realise what it is. _

_My child is growing inside her belly._

_She's six, maybe seven months pregnant from the size of the bump. I move my hands upwards a way, my face hot from a blush, gingerly touching her breasts. They, too, are obviously bigger than her normal small size, soft, generous and heavy with milk. She begins to stir and I move my hands quickly back down to the bump, then away to my sides, trying to hide yet another flush. "Jon? Are you awake?" she mumbles. Her gorgeous hazel eyes are cloudy with sleep as they open, but clear as she blinks._

"_Yes. Go back to sleep, love," I say, the 'love' slipping out. She smiles wearily before taking my hand and holding it to the curve of her stomach._

"_He's kicking." I can feel small, butterfly-like nudges under the skin. My lips break into an awed smile. _

My eyelids opened at that point. Apparently I was having too long a good dream for it to carry on. That always happened when things were particularly bad-I'd get a decent dream for once. I blocked out the feel of the dream, knowing I couldn't stay, I shouldn't stay, I didn't _want _to stay, concentrating on that...

I wanted her so badly. I'd thought it was just her lips and the feel of her in my arms I wanted. But I wanted; even needed all of her, her hips, her legs, her breasts, her neck, even her own arms to wind around my neck so I could crush my lips against hers and kiss her forever. I wanted Lyara so much I ached for her. "Damn it," I groaned to myself. I had already made my decision. I was leaving with my Uncle Benjen...and joining the Night's Watch. I'd forget about her eventually. _'Bullshit,' _my inner voice scoffed. Not only that, but what about Bran? He was the biggest attraction to staying. I needed to be there for him, didn't I? When he woke up.

Despite either of those reasons I found myself outside Mikken's (the only other blacksmith in Winterfell) the next morning, getting a sword forged for Arya's goodbye present. I'd asked to make it small, skinny, and above all, well balanced. I watched him wipe soot off the blade with mild interest, my mind brooding over what to say to everyone. A voice interrupted my thoughts. "A sword for the Wall?"

I turned around to see Jaime Lannister. "I already have one," I answered, indicating to the blade on my hip.

"Good man. Have you swung it yet?" Ah, a topic of interest. My face cleared.

"Of course I have." He gave me a pitying expression as if I were stupid. My face felt hot.

"At some_one_, I mean." I hesitated. Did sparring count? I doubted it. "It's a strange thing, the first time you cut a man. You realise we're nothing but sacks of meat, blood and some bone to keep it all standing." I was just staring at him. I probably did look a bit simple. I rooted around in my head for something to say. He got there first, holding his hand out for me to shake. I accepted the gesture. "Let me thank you, ahead of time. For guarding as all from the perils beyond the Wall. Wildlings, and White Walkers and whatnot." He pulled my arm towards me in a quick, painful jerk. "We're grateful. A good, strong man like you protecting us," he finished. He patted my shoulder and went to walk away. I gathered what was left of my dignity.

"We've guarded the Kingdoms for eight thousand years," I said quickly, trying to salvage some respect for the Wall. He smirked, raising a brow.

"Is it 'we', already? Have you taken your vows, then?"

"Soon enough."

"Give my regards to the Night's Watch. I'm sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an elite force. And if not," a quick shrug, "It's only for life." He walked off. I grit my teeth and moved back towards Mikken, who stared at me as he handed me Arya's sword. Great.

My first errand was to say goodbye to Arya. Bran and Robb were next. I climbed the stairs and padded along hallways to her room, where I found her packing. She met my eyes and huffed.

"Septa Mordane says I have to do it again," she explained. "My things weren't properly folded, she says. Who cares how they're folded?! They're going to get all messed up anyway."

"It's good you've got help," I replied, nodding to Nymeria, her grey and white direwolf.

"Watch. Nymeria, gloves." The wolf sat, looking puzzled. She made a confused noise in her throat. I raised an eyebrow.

"Impressive."

"Shut up. Nymeria, gloves!" The wolf cocked her head to one side with another noise.

"I have something for you. It has to be packed very carefully."

"A present?" Her eyes lit up. Gods, how I adored Arya. Wild, messy Arya whose hair I mussed and who I watched argue with Sansa day after day.

"Close the door." I walked over to the bed, putting the bundle with the sword down, while she checked the hallway outside and closed the door. I held the sword in its beautifully made sheath out to her. "This is no toy. Be careful you don't cut yourself." I pulled out the blade, giving it to my little sister, who admired it in awe, glee and terror at once.

"It's so skinny," she breathed.

"So are you," I chuckled. "I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won't hack a man's head off but it can poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."

"I can be quick."

"You'll have to work at it every day."

"Like you and Lyara?" I paused, and sighed, smiling wryly.

"Yes, like me and Lyara. So how does it feel? D'you like the balance?"

"I think so." I cupped her head with my hand, bending down and looking directly into her eyes.

"First lesson. Stick 'em with the pointy end," I joked.

"I know which end to use," she said crossly. I smiled again and stood up.

"I'm going to miss you." She reached for me, sword still in hand. I retreated a pace or two. "Careful!" She set the sword down, and without warning, jumped on me, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck. I gave her a tight cuddle before saying, "All the best swords have names, you know." She deliberated for a moment.

"Sansa can keep her sewing needles," she muttered defiantly. "I've got a Needle of my own." I hugged her harder, closing my eyes. Then, for the last time for a while, I set her down.

"I have to go. Don't get in too much trouble, and remember to work at your swordplay. Goodbye, little sister," I mumbled.

Bran would be much harder to say goodbye to. Catelyn guarded him day and night, scarcely sleeping. Even so, I stopped outside the door, took a deep breath, and entered. She glanced up, and her expression turned to disgust after acknowledging I was there. "I came to say goodbye to Bran," I declared, trying to sound braver than I felt.

"You've said it," she responded dully. Trying to ignore her gaze following me across the room, I stepped over to Bran's bed. To think that only the day before he had been so happy, vital, full of life. I pushed the thought away and spoke.

"I wish I could be here when you wake up. I'm going North with Uncle Benjen. I'm taking the Black." I knelt. "I know we always talked about seeing the Wall together, but you can come and visit me at Castle Black when you're better. I'll know my way around by then. I'll be a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. We can go out walking beyond the Wall if you're not afraid." I felt Catelyn's gaze burning into me. Even so I leaned over and kissed Bran on his ice pale forehead. Neither one of us registered Father at the doorway. Catelyn looked straight at me, into my eyes.

"I want you to _leave_," she enunciated, in case I hadn't got the message. Well, for once, I did as I was told, and walked past Father outside to safety where my heart could scream in pain in relative peace. I could hear her inside. "Seventeen years ago, you rode off with Robert Baratheon. You came back a year later with another woman's son..." I sprinted out of the castle, anger gnawing at my chest. I went immediately to the stables, got my tack, and would have been out of Winterfell in two seconds flat if Robb hadn't joined my side.

"Have you said goodbye to Bran?" he asked. I nodded. "He's not going to die. I know it."

"You Starks are hard to kill" I agreed wearily.

"My mother?"

"She was very kind." I hoped to the Gods Robb couldn't see through the bullshit. Thankfully, it worked.

"Good. Next time I see you, you'll be all in black," he offered cheerfully.

"It was always my colour," I grinned. His face took on a more serious tone.

"Farewell, Snow."

"And you, Stark." There was a brief pause before the hug, which was brotherly, hard and playful. I watched him leave. I would miss Robb with all my heart. My brother, my friend. Speaking of friends, I was upset that Lyara had not come out to say goodbye. I even considered going into the lion's den and asking to see her for a split second, but for the sake of my own well-being and health I decided against it. I got on my horse and rode up to Uncle Benjen.

"Are you ready?" he inquired.

"Yes," I confirmed. We were about to get going when we both heard a voice.

"Is this going to the Wall?" A boy's voice. Uncle Benjen turned his horse around. A tall boy on a horse was trotting toward us.

"Yes," he answered gravely. "Are you coming with us?"

"I would like that."

"What's your name?"

"Liam Snow." 'Another bastard,' my mind remembered vaguely.

"Well then, Liam Snow, welcome to the Night's Watch."


	5. Ladylike My Arse!

I don't own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. 

Chapter Five

**Jon**

"It's a great honor serving in the Night's Watch," Father told me, at the King's Road crossing. "The Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years-and you are a Stark." I looked up in surprise. "You might not have my name, but you have my blood." I pondered this for a moment, and suddenly asked a question I had wanted to for years.

"Is my mother alive?" I questioned. "Does she know about me, where I am, where I'm going? Does she care?" He looked away, then looked back, clearly torn about something.

"The next time we see each other, we'll talk about your mother." I could only watch as he cantered off, and then follow the others headed for the Wall and the Night's Watch.

As we rode, I watched the other Snow boy. He wasn't a fantastic rider, and was weaponless, and altogether unremarkable. He, too, had dark hair, but it was straighter than mine and cut far shorter. He was also clean shaven, and had brown eyes. I wasn't quite sure what to make of him. In the end I simply ignored him for the most part as we pitched camp.

He was mostly quiet anyway, not talking to Uncle Benjen unless asked a question, not talking to me or Tyrion or Yoren. There was something familiar, and strange, about him, something I couldn't quite place. He'd said his name was Liam, yet no-one in Winterfell had had a son named Liam. Then again, he was a bastard, so maybe he wasn't mentioned. I kept my thoughts away from him as best I could, but when I did I thought of the people I'd given up. Father. Bran. Arya. Robb. Lyara. I couldn't turn back now, this was it. My past life was slowly going to fade away until it was no more than a distant memory.

Or at least, that's what I hoped for.

My dream last night still haunted me. Waking up next to Lyara, her being my wife, her belly swollen with our child. With _my _child. If I had stayed, would that have happened? Would we have gotten married eventually? A lot of people in Winterfell had assumed we would because we had spent almost every waking moment together for years. It was a possibility I would never get to touch on. But I tried to focus on the good things about the Watch. The fact that to be a part of the ancient brotherhood was an honor in itself. That even a bastard like myself or Liam could do well there. Positives.

My Uncle appeared from the trees with two boys, Yoren close on their heels. "Sit. You'll be fed. Untie them." The last sentence was a command for Yoren. Tyrion, across the fire, looked back at them, then at me.

"Ah. Rapers," he mused. "They were given a choice, no doubt-castration or the Wall. Most choose the knife." He stuck his nose back in his book, then re-thought it and brought his eyes up. "Not impressed by your new brothers? Lovely thing about the Watch. You discard your old family and get a whole new one." I flicked my eyes around, to Tyrion, the rapers, then to my Uncle Benjen, and finally back to Tyrion.

"Why d'you read so much?" I inquired out of nowhere. He didn't look up.

"Look at me and tell me what you see."

"Is this a trick?" He smirked.

"What you see is a dwarf. If I had been born a peasant, they might have left me out in the woods to die. But alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Things are expected of me. My father was the Hand of the King for twenty years."

"Until your brother killed that King." Tyrion half-sighed wryly.

"Yes. Until my brother killed him. Life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new King, and my repulsive nephew will be King after him. I must do my part for the honor of my House; wouldn't you agree? But how? Well, my brother has his sword, and I have my mind, and a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone. That's why I read so much, Jon Snow." A pause. "And you? What's your story, bastard?" I ground my teeth and tried to think of something cutting to say.

"Ask me nicely and maybe I'll tell you, dwarf." He began to chuckle.

"A bastard boy with nothing to inherit, off to join the ancient order of the Night's Watch alongside his valiant brothers-in-arms."

"The Night's Watch protects the realm fro-"

"Ah yes, yes, from grumkins and snarks, and all the other monsters your wet nurse warned you about. You're a smart boy; you don't believe that nonsense." He picked up his wineskin, threw it at me. "Everything's better with some wine in the belly." I took his word for it, caught the skin, and took a long, deep swallow. A pleasant warmth spread throughout my body, owed to the spiciness and heat of the wine, and at least some of the tension unknotted. For now. My gaze flickered over to Liam, sitting quietly and unobtrusively by a tree that grew from the riverbank we were camping on. He was looking out across the water, the rippling light reflected in his eyes. I envied his tranquil world. Not even Tyrion could achieve that kind of peace, no matter how long his nose was in one of his books.

**Liam**

I didn't dare to meet Jon's curious eyes. I focused intently on the clear, flowing river, the eddies and twists making my brain sore after a while. My legs were slowly cramping from sitting in one position for too long, the odd pinprick sensation that accompanied the cramps working its way up and down them. I put the one I had bent upwards flat on the ground to match the other. It gave relief for a few seconds, anyway.

Slowly, everyone started to retreat to the comfort of their sleeping rolls, except for myself and Tyrion who took the first watch. I concentrated on the empty air in front of me as each individual dropped off to sleep. He was chuckling quietly to himself, and it started to get on my nerves, his throaty laugh. I wondered what exactly the joke was. Suddenly, he spoke, presumably to me, as every other sod was asleep.

"Do you think I'm as stupid as the rest of them?" he grinned. "Liam, is it?"

"Yes," I muttered gruffly. (Or at least as gruffly as I could manage.) "What's it to you, Lannister?"

"Are you sure that's your name?"

"Can you stop the bloody bullshit and get to the point?" He looked surprised.

"You seem very straightforward. Very well then. You're a girl, aren't you?"

I nearly fell off the log I was sitting on in shock. How could he know?! "No, I'm not!" I hissed in a weak Mummer's farce of outrage.

"Yes, you are. Take off your cloak and shirt, we'll see then. Or perhaps your breeches-that might prove it better."

"I'm not taking off either, piss off!" But I bit my lip and sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'm a girl."

"And a rather pretty one at that. I have to say, it does not make sense whatsoever that such a comely maid might want to join the Night's Watch. You don't look much like a boy-though the dreadful haircut, the baggy clothes, and certainly the filthy mouth, help. So why, Liam, are you taking the black? And out of curiosity, what is your real name? I feel oddly as if we've met before." I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously.

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

"What, that you're a girl? No. What sort of man do you take me for? There are rapers barely a well-aimed piss away."

"My name's Lyara. Lyara Rierden-but I'm a Snow in truth." He frowned, and then his face relaxed in recognition.

"Ah. Now I know you. You're that girl that young Jon over there had to run after a few days ago. I stopped to listen and watch, you know-and you undoubtedly were doing the same when he and I were speaking. I remember he took you inside, so I assumed he was merely taking you into his bed for a farewell fuck and moved on." He paused. "Was I right?"

He barely saw the punch coming. I whacked him one straight in his mouth, furious, and he fell off the log this time; reeling. He was breathless when he got back on. "I'll take that as a no. For a girl, you hit hard," he commented, seeming as if he didn't actually give a flying fuck. "And you're either very brave or very stupid to hit a Lannister."

"What, are you going to go crying to Daddy?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Please. That's Prince Joffrey's lookout-or so I've heard." He gave me another wicked grin.

"Spirited. So, are you going to answer my question?"

"Which one?"

"Why in Seven Hells are you going to the Wall?"

"Haven't you worked that one out yet?"

"Humour me as if I haven't."

"Jon. I'm going to the Wall, taking the black, spending the rest of my days freezing my tits off, for him." He raised an eyebrow.

"Would you care to explain why?"

"Look, it's a long story."

"I have time." I growled, frustrated.

"Fine. He and I have been friends since we were both twelve, him a couple of months older. Then, this past month or so, everything has gone to shit because I realised that I loved him. My foster parents, or at least mother, kept us apart after I cried over him, so I snuck out to see him and...yeah."

He was silent for a moment. "That wasn't a very long story. Is that all of it?"

"No. I snuck out to see him, but sort of ended up spying on him. That's why he ran after me, because he saw me looking at him. Then we argued about what had been going on, we made up again, he asked me to stay the night so I did. We slept on his bed, and he kissed me the next day, and I ended up the babbling idiot I am today." Everything came out in a massive rush, me being far too eager to tell the story and tell it bloody quickly. Tyrion's expression remained calm and thoughtful.

"So you're joining the Night's Watch to be around Jon Snow?"

"Yes. Well, and because my foster family were packing me off so that I could teach highborn girls their fucking table manners."

"You really are one of the most charming girls I have ever met. What's your secret?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"You really are asking for another smack around the face."

"Maybe so."

We sat then in companionable quiet until it was the turn of Yoren and Benjen to keep watch, and I could burrow into my sleeping roll to cry myself quietly into unconsciousness.

When I woke the next morning the smell of cooking food made my nostrils prickle. I wasn't in the mood to eat, however, or to do much else. My head ached horrendously from the previous night's sob-in, and I was in that sort of mood where I would snap at the slightest thing and want to punch everything/one I laid eyes on. I still had to help pack up, and I did so with what felt like a permanent scowl on my face. Excusing myself to go and take a piss, I found yet another reason to be really fucking annoyed. "Oh, bloody fucking shitty wonderful!" I snarled, ripping a piece off the bottom of my cloak to put in my smallclothes. I'd almost forgotten the problematic incident that happened every month-which was useless now anyway. I would never carry a child in my belly. But it would be harder to conceal it at the Wall than at Winterfell. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

**Jon**

We had to stand around waiting for at least ten minutes before Liam came back. "What happened? Couldn't find your cock, Snow?" one of the rapers, Rast, mocked.

"Oh, I can find my cock all right. But one morning you might wake up and discover that you can't find yours," Liam muttered to himself. I choked back laughter. It was like something Lyara would say, once...damn, I needed to stop thinking about her, and that kiss. It would hurt less if I could forget. Maybe she would come to the Wall and visit me when she was done in King's Landing-though I doubted it very much. The thought made my lips quirk up in a smile. Lyara, a Septa? Orla was off her head. But my smile faded when I remembered that it was my fault. I had made her unhappy just because I wanted her. Of course she would never think that but I knew it was the truth. I wondered if I would find my best friend, my Lyara in one of the other boys at the Wall. It had to be worth trying for.

In that moment, I glanced over at Liam and Tyrion, who were keeping up a merry conversation at the far side of the company, and I caught a glimpse of Liam's smile. Now, I knew that smile. And I knew all too well the girl who had worn it in the years I had known her.

If it was her, she had gone insane.

If it was her I was essentially and utterly fucked.


	6. It Hurts Me To Say This

I don't own Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or Wild Horses by Natasha Bedingfield.

Chapter Six

**Jon**

I continually sneaked glances at Liam for the rest of the ride to the Wall, as it grew colder, and colder, and colder still as we got into the mountains and hills. He seemed just as distant as yesterday, at least from everyone other than Tyrion. That, I thought in relief, was nothing like Lyara. She always spoke her mind whether it was wanted or not, and she usually didn't keep quiet like Liam. They had the same dark brown hair, and I hoped to get a glimpse of his eyes to see what colour they were. I'd originally dismissed them as being brown, so-I was being an idiot.

Liam and Lyara were not the same people. One was male and the other female for starters!

**Liam**

I was shivering inside my thick clothes by the time we were almost at the Wall. I wanted to retreat with all haste to a warm bed nearby, which wasn't going to happen. My stomach squeezed painfully, and I could feel wetness between my thighs yet again. I'd have no cloak at this rate. Gritting my teeth, I let it creep into my smallclothes, trying extremely hard to ignore the disgusting, oozing feel of it. I concentrated instead on the feel of the gelding's muscles beneath my legs, the thick, coarse texture of his creamy mane in my fingers. The winds bit at my cheeks, sometimes nipping playfully, sometimes savaging viciously. _'Lyara Snow, this is your life,' _I mused irritatedly. Now that I had left Winterfell I had chosen to take my real name rather than Rierden. I was a bastard, I knew it, my foster parents knew it, and Jon knew it...so why hide the truth anymore? My neck felt bare where my ponytail would usually swing or where my hair would tumble loose about my shoulders. It would never do either again.

My eyes were to my dapple grey's mane for the thousandth time when the Wall rose up in front of us. As I looked up, however, I was astounded by what I saw.

A huge, and I mean _huge_, wall of ice towered over everything else, including what I could only assume was Castle Black at its base. It shimmered beautifully in the pale sunlight that bounced off it, the few flakes of stray snow that Jon and I were named for drifting down lazily. They settled in the sable of my hair. "Welcome," Benjen muttered to Jon. I half-smiled wryly, wondering just what I had gotten myself in for.

"Pick any sleeping cell you want," Yoren told Jon, Rast, Halder and myself; walking us through Castle Black's courtyard. I noticed it was broken down and half-built. The whole state of affairs interested me. I'd always thought the Night's Watch was a proud and noble order that lived at least slightly better off than this. Ah, well, may as well get used to it. "You can stay there today until supper-then I'll be back to take you to the hall."

And so it was there that we were left. I chose the tower closest to me, Hardin's Tower, too tired to bother with vetting rooms out. It leaned to one side and had a broken battlement-and I'll admit, it had character. I liked it.

Jon followed, clearly having the same idea, and I chose to disappear as fast as I could into the first room I laid eyes on before he could say anything. And do you know what? I ripped my cloak off and dove onto the bed faster than I'd moved in my life, burrowing under the covers and burying my head in the pillow. It still hurt; not as much, but still enough to make me wince. Then I remembered my red flower and jumped straight out of bed. I had to make do with rubbing snow into the material I'd been wearing to wash it out and then putting it back in again. It froze me half to death but it was worth it.

_I feel these four walls closin' in  
Face up against the glass  
I'm lookin' out, hmm  
Is this my life I'm wonderin' It happens so fast  
How do I turn this thing around?  
Is this the bed I chose to make?  
It's greener pastures I'm thinkin' about  
Hmm, wide open spaces far away_

I crawled back into bed, rubbing my face into the pillow. It didn't have the same sweet soft smell as my old pillow but it was comfortable and that was more or less all I cared about at the moment. I thought of the boy sharing this tower with me. I loved him so much. Why hadn't I had the brains to say it during the time that being together was possible? When I could have had him and damn the consequence?

That time was gone now.

_All I want is the wind in my hair To face the fear but not feel scared_

I reached out with a silvery, delicate strand of thought to him. _Jon...my Jon...do you know just how much of my heart you have, how deeply I love you? If you wanted anything of me, anything, I would give it to you. My heart, which already belongs to you, my soul, my body, my mind...just take it. It's yours. None of that is mine anymore._

I was roused from my reverie by a knock at the door. "Who is it?" I asked, deepening my voice quickly.

**Jon**

I wanted a chance to talk to Liam privately. I'd know at once if he was Lyara, wouldn't I? Nearly six years I'd known her and I knew her personality, what she looked like. Her disconcertingly lovely eyes that were neither green nor brown...I shoved the picture away angrily. I was at the Wall now, and yet still she haunted my mind? I was going mad, that was it, mad. I forced myself to concentrate on that as I knocked the door of the boy who I thought was the girl I loved. See, that's not mad. I began to despair of myself. "Who is it?"

"Jon Snow," I answered. "Can I come in?" I heard scuffling; a sound of a cloak being put on, and then Liam opened the door, clearly annoyed.

"What do you want, Jon Snow?" he grunted irritably. I was taken slightly aback by his hostility but managed to look at him.

"To talk to you, of course," I replied. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine. Was that it, or...?"

"May I come in?" He deliberated for a moment and then shrugged.

"As you wish."

His quarters weren't much better than mine, smaller perhaps because of their position at the base of the tower. Slightly warmer for the same reason. The blankets on the bed were mussed and tangled. Liam stood awkwardly, seemingly unsure of what to do or say-I felt the same. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?" he asked finally. I tried to find the words inside my head, tried to open my mouth to speak.

_Wild horses I wanna be like you  
Throwin' caution to the wind, I'll run free too  
Wish I could recklessly love like I'm longin' to  
I wanna run with the wild horses  
Run with the wild horses_

"No."

"Then why did you come here?"

"To the Wall, or to your quarters?"

"How about both? Sit down then, I'm sick of us standing around like idiots." A slight smile came to Liam Snow's face, his voice somewhat warmer than before. "Why did you come to the Wall then?"

"I'm going to assume you grew up in Winterfell."

"Aye; that I did. You're Lord Eddard Stark's bastard." Normally I would have gotten annoyed, but I kept my countenance calm, trying to be able to explain rationally. "Hey, don't get angry. I'm a baker's bastard for the Gods' sakes-don't you think that's worse? At least you got to live in a castle."

"I didn't know the baker had a bastard son."

"I'm not a conversation topic he enjoys bringing up." He raised a dark eyebrow. "I suppose he could have left me to die, so it's not too bad. A lot of people have bastards. It's common but not something you'd bring up over dinner."

"The blacksmith had a bastard daughter. Did you know her?" I inquired.

"Which blacksmith, Mikken or Richard?" he wanted to know.

"Richard."

"Can't say that I've met her-what was her name?"

"Lyara."

"What was she like?" I struggled to find words again.

"She was...she was my best friend. I could be in the blackest mood you can think of and a second in her company would make me feel better. And she was beautiful. So beautiful. Hair like sable silk. The most gorgeous laugh. And she swore like a sailor."

"So why didn't you stay at Winterfell?"

_I see the girl I wanna be  
Riding bare back, carefree  
Along the shore  
If only that someone was me  
Jumpin' head first, head long  
Without a thought To act and damn the consequence  
How I wish it could be that easy  
But fear surrounds me like a fence  
I wanna break free_

"I had my own reasons. Of course, even if I had married her, where would I take her? Bastards inherit nothing. She deserved better. But because of me, she got sent to King's Landing to be miserable for the rest of her life. Lyara insisted it wasn't my fault, but I knew better."

"You only asked her to stay with you. You didn't force her to do anything." I started to shake my head, but then realised what he had just said and frowned.

"How did you know that?"

"I'd heard something along those lines in the town about you and the blacksmith's daughter. Of course, in their version of the story, you fucked her and most likely left her with child. Is that true?" I was still suspicious. How could he possibly know that? Of course, gossip spreads like wildfire in Winterfell. I supposed I could only take what he had said for the truth. But my earlier thoughts plagued me. I had been sure that only Lyara and I had known that-so maybe I had been right. Or maybe he was telling the truth and I was going mad as I'd originally thought.

"No. No, it's not true. I would never have done that to her when I knew I was coming here. I would _never_ have left if I had bedded her, if I had gotten her pregnant, I _wouldn't_ do that." My voice rose in anger. "And you know nothing about her! You have no right to remark on my relationship with the girl I love!"

_All I want is the wind in my hair To face the fear but not feel scared_

He was silent for a moment. "I guess I don't. So how about this-you leave my quarters now, and we never speak of this conversation again?"

I rose from the bed. "Sounds good," I said coldly. I slammed the door abruptly behind me, marching straight back up the stairs, but it was only when I reached my own bedchambers that I realised that hot tears were staining my cheeks. I wiped them away, but it didn't stop the next ones falling, and falling, and falling...

Eventually I gave into the tears and cried as quietly as I could.

I knew crying was pointless, but it seemed that misery tears helped more than anything to ease the gnawing, cankerous pain inside of me that struck whenever I remembered Bran's freckled cheeks and grin, or Robb's jests with me as we play-fought together, or Arya's sheer stubbornness, Rickon playing with Shaggydog on the floor or even Sansa's ladylike ways. Father's hand rubbing my hair when I was a child. Whenever I remembered a laugh like soft summer rain, eyes like forests, hair like waves of dark spun silk.

Of course, she'd had the attention of other boys. One in particular had annoyed me-especially when he had broken Lyara's heart.

Theon Greyjoy.

They'd courted for almost a year. All that time, he'd made advances-and every time, she'd refused. As far as I knew, she still had her maidenhood. He'd gotten frustrated, considering he loved fucking more than anything else, except maybe bragging about it. They argued about it for hours on the last day they were together, until he'd told her he didn't want her 'for anything but your cunt'. Lyara had punched him and left, fuming. I had been told all this when she'd calmed down, and Theon had given me his revised edition where she hadn't punched him but had gone off crying. Considering punching him sounded like something she would do I instantly took her side.

_Wild horses I wanna be like you  
Throwin' caution to the wind, I'll run free too  
Wish I could recklessly love like I'm longin' to  
I wanna run with the wild horses  
Run with the wild horses_

_I wanna run too  
Whoa oh whoa oh_

Recklessly abandoning myself before you  
I wanna open up my heart...and tell him how I feel

It was one of the reasons that I really didn't like Theon. Not only was he a git, he was a git who had hurt someone I loved. It went without saying that she liked him even less than I did.

_Wild horses I wanna be like you  
Throwing caution to the wind  
I'll run free too  
Wish I could recklessly love, like I'm longing to  
I wanna run with the wild horses, run with the wild horses_

_Wild horses I wanna be like you  
Throwing caution to the wind  
I'll run free too  
Wish I could recklessly love, like I'm longing to  
I wanna run with the wild horses, run with the wild horses..._


	7. Love In The Dark

I don't own Game of Thrones, My Love by Sia or A Song of Ice and Fire. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and a big thank you to those who already have, particularly **Akira Darkness** and **don'tstopbelieving123**. Any requests for particular songs are usually put in.

Chapter Seven

**Liam**

The only sound I could hear, other than the buzzing in my head from lack of sleep, was the ring of blunted swords off each other. It bounced off the stone walls and made me wince. Training had commenced that morning, and I bore several new bruises that I'd received from my fellow recruits, including Jon-who was the only person who could hand my arse to me on a trencher, as per bloody usual. That didn't mean to say, however, that the others hadn't gotten in some lucky whacks.

"If that were a real sword you'd be dead," Ser Alliser snarled at Grenn, who had been fighting Jon and was now bleeding from his nose. I'm no healer but I had a feeling it was now broken. Ser Alliser Thorne, the single biggest arsehole in Westeros as we'd all discovered, was our instructor. Oh, the fucking joys. Not only do I get to freeze my tits off at the Wall, I get to do it while being yelled at by a complete tosser. I repeat-oh, the fucking joys. "Lord Snow here grew up in a castle, spitting down on the likes of you. Pyp, do you think Ned Stark's _bastard_ bleeds like the rest of us?" I scoffed quietly at this remark. Jon wasn't high-and-mighty. If he was, why would he make friends with a blacksmith's daughter? Ser Alliser knew fuck-all. Even so, Pypar (or Pyp, depending on whether or not you were friends with him-though of course, Thorne made friends with no-one and vice versa) took his turn to have his arse well and truly kicked, and ended up prostrate on the ground. "Next!"

And so it continued.

The look on Jon's face when he fought now was not of determination or concentration. It was of disgust for his partner, and even arrogance, something I hated and never thought my best friend would even border on. My best friend, who now thought I was a boy called Liam. Who wasn't my best friend anymore. Now he was a stranger, someone cold and distant, who I no longer knew.

"Well, Lord Snow, it appears you're the least useless person here. Go clean yourselves up. There's only so much I can stomach in a day." The last part was spoken to all of us. I ripped my protective padding off straight away, and made for the armoury, considering sticking a fork into Thorne's neck when no-one was looking. I doubt anyone would mourn. As I walked into the room, however, I knew a full-scale confrontation was bubbling up. I sighed. Shit.

"You broke my nose, bastard," Grenn hissed with a glare. Jon put his sword away, considering this for a moment, and turned around. I prayed that he wouldn't say anything stupid. Please, please, please...

"It's an improvement," he replied. Oh, brilliant. Well, he was almost a man grown, he could fight his own battles.

**Jon**

Three of them grabbed me, holding me in place while Grenn held a blade to my throat. Liam left, muttering under his breath, and I scowled after him for not trying to help. "If I threw you over the Wall I wonder how long it would take you to hit," mused Grenn, threateningly.

"I wonder if they'd find you before the wolves did," Pypar joined in. Just then, the door opened, and who else but Tyrion Lannister walked into the room?

"What are you looking at, half-man?" Tyrion pondered this for a second.

"I'm looking at you," he answered shortly. No jests meant. "Yes, you've got an interesting face. Hmm. Very distinctive faces, all of you."

"What do you care about our faces?" growled Rast.

"It's just-I think they would look marvellous decorating spikes in King's Landing. Perhaps I'll write to my sister, the Queen, about it." Grenn, Rast, and Pypar let me go. But not without a word of warning.

"We'll talk later, Lord Snow," whispered Grenn. Tyrion approached as I realised something.

"Everybody knew what this place was. And no-one told me. No-one but you," I thought out loud. Tyrion looked wry. "My father knew, and he left me to rot at the Wall all the same."

"Grenn's father left him too. Outside a farmhouse when he was three. Pyp was caught stealing a wheel of cheese-his little sister hadn't eaten in three days. He was given a choice, his right hand or the Wall. I've been asking the Lord Commander about them. Fascinating stories," he offered.

"They hate me because I'm better than they are!"

"It's a lucky thing that none of them were trained by a master-at-arms like your Ser Rodrik. I don't imagine any of them have ever held a real sword before they came here. Oh," he continued, "Your brother Bran." He held out a message, and I took it quickly, frightened now. "He's woken up."

_Jon, _the paper read,

_Bran woke up two nights ago. Nothing seems to be wrong with him mentally-he speaks and remembers everything except his fall-but Maester Luwin says that he has lost the use of his legs. He sends his love, as do I. I hope the Wall is everything we dreamed it would be._

_Robb._

I almost wept in relief, but controlled myself and went to lunch. Bran would never walk again. He would spend his life having to rely on others to get him around. But he was awake, alive. And that was the best news I'd ever had. A huge weight rolled off of my shoulders. Maybe once he was stronger, he would be able to visit, or maybe soon I would be allowed to go to Winterfell to see him. Either way, my brother was alive. I walked with a spring in my step all the way to the hall.

Upon entering, my ears were filled with the sound of chatter and spoons scraping bowls. Grenn, Liam and Pypar were sat at one table, laughing about something or other. As I caught the last wisps of their discussion on food, Liam's head turned and his eyes caught mine. And my happiness, my relief, my reprieve from everything that had happened today vanished from my mind. Because, not as I'd thought before, Liam's eyes were not brown. They were hazel green. A specific shade of hazel green.

They were Lyara's eyes. The very same ones. Not a mistake, not a coincidence. They were Lyara's, and hers only.

Damn it.

She'd disguised herself quite well to anyone but me. I should have looked at the eyes first, as soon as I'd had even the shadow of a doubt. Because she had been there, in Liam's smile, in 'his' personality. I just hadn't seen it fully until now, until I had taken a good look. Her face tightened suddenly, her jaw tensed. She knew that I had worked it out. But nevertheless she turned back to Grenn and Pypar, and ignored me.

Night fell. I wasn't on watch duty until early tomorrow morning so I was free to sleep for tonight. I had no intention of sleeping. Instead, I waited on the end of the bottom room's bed. It took a while for her to come in but come in she did, and as soon as she spotted me she glared. "What are you doing in here?" she fumed.

"What're you doing here?" I asked, rising.

"What are you on about?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm on about. Lyara, have you gone mad?" Her jaw set again.

"You knew?" Her voice was its normal pitch now, no longer deliberately gruff. She sounded hoarse.

"Of course I did! What do you think you're playing at?"

"What do you think _you're_ playing at?! I don't even recognize you anymore! You're being such an arsehole to every other recruit in the place! That's not you, Jon."

"How would you know?!"

"Because I've known you since we were twelve! You're not arrogant like that, or vindictive, or up yourself. Yet somehow in the space of a few days you've become all of those things, and none of them are characteristics of a nice person. What's happened to you?" I was getting frustrated now.

"Nothing's happened to me! I'm the same as I was before." This made her shut up, for a moment.

"If you are, I don't know how I was ever friends with you. I don't know how I ever even liked you. I suppose you want nothing to do with me now, after all, I'm just a lowborn blacksmith's fostered bastard. You're a lord's bastard-and there's such a difference, isn't there?" I glared at her. Why would she say this to me? Tyrion's earlier words came back to me, and I felt suddenly ashamed. "And not even he wanted me. He packed me off to the Capitol without a backward glance!"

"And you should have gone there!"

"Oh, so you wouldn't have tried to escape? Jon, you know me well enough now to realise that I'm not the kind to follow orders. I didn't want to waste my life in King's Landing! That's fair enough, isn't it?"

"Why here? Why the Wall?"

"Where else could I go? I'm safe here-men of the Night's Watch take no part in what happens in the Seven Kingdoms!"

"Men, Lyara, _men_. You're a woman."

"Oh, well done. I'd never noticed that I had tits and a twat. Are you going to turn me in? Send me back to Winterfell?"

I hesitated. What was I supposed to do? If I turned her in she would be cast out or at the worst she would be killed. All right, and maybe I wanted her here. "No," I sighed. She calmed down, took a breath.

"Thank you." She paused. "You know, you were the deciding factor. If you hadn't come here I wouldn't have been so dead set on being at the Wall. I still feel that way, even though you've been acting like a cunt." Silence ensued.

"You cut your hair," I noted eventually.

"I had to."

"It's...nice."

"I did it myself. It probably looks like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards-not that I care."

"Now I know why you didn't write or see me off." She snorted.

"And the penny finally drops, does it?"

"You gave your life up for me."

"Not completely for you. But, yes, partially, and I'd do it again. You're not allowed to feel guilty." My face softened.

"Lyara, I don't care about getting married or any of it, but you are never going to marry either. You'll never lie with a man; you'll never have his children."

"It's more than worth it to be free. It's more than worth it to see your face every day. So I'm not complaining." I wasn't sure how to answer. But my arms were, and they wrapped themselves around her waist. "What would I do without you?" Lyara laughed.

"Whatever you were doing before I came into your life," I replied dryly.

"How very boring. I'd almost prefer King's Landing." It was my turn to laugh then. "I wouldn't have given this, o-or you, up for the whole of Westeros."

It happened then, spontaneously and without warning. My lips somehow touched to hers, soft, loving. A real kiss that was undisturbed and private. Her lips were slightly chapped from the cold-and that's not a bad way for a girl's lips to be, I can tell you. I felt her arms hug me closer, drawing both of us further into the kiss. I knew it was wrong, I knew if anyone found out about any of this we could both die, and I didn't care. "I love you," I whispered, breaking off.

_My love, leave yourself behind  
Beat inside me, leave you blind  
My love, you have found peace  
You were searching for release_

**Lyara**

"I love you too, Jon," I breathed. His smile then made the rest of the world fly away in a burst of bright colours and wings, and take my heart with it. His lips explored mine again, but went further than that this time, moving slowly, steadily along my jaw and down my neck, landing only fleetingly, like the flutter of a butterfly. His stubble tickled, but I liked it. It wasn't scratching me, just making me giggle like a fool. My fingers searched blindly for the fastenings of his damned jerkin; the leather was slippery and annoyingly good at hiding any laces. I finally happened upon them, but the fact he'd gotten down to my shoulder and was kissing me there was extremely distracting. It hadn't felt like that when Theon had done it, right now it felt so natural it was like breathing or blinking. I fumbled around with the knot until I had it undone, and the garment came off nicely. He pulled away for just a second but that was enough time for me to jump and get my legs around his waist. The bed was tantalisingly close, but the floor made do and I wanted him. All of him, right here, right now. Yes, even on the floor.

"Do you think we should stop?" he asked as we came up for air.

"Why?" My answer was almost petulant under the pants of my breathing. I didn't want to back out now.

"If I get you pregnant and you're supposed to be a boy what are we going to say?"

"You won't get me pregnant. My red flower's blooming-it's a one in a million chance."

"The vows of the Night's Watch-"

"To bloody hell with them! All I know is that I love you and I'm not losing you again." I sat up, pinning his waist (which was still irritatingly covered) to the ground, and took my own shirt off, baring my breasts to the world. "I am begging you to take my maidenhood, Jon Snow. Please, take it." Jon wasn't quite pinned, because he managed to roll both of us over so I was underneath him. He hesitated then.

"Are you sure?"

_You gave it all into the call  
You took a chance and  
You took the fall for us_

"Yes!"

Done with hesitation and shyness, I dove for his shirt and ripped it off, impatient, and got started on his trousers while Jon's strong, rough hands moved down to mine and slipped them off, along with my underclothes, leaving me completely bare. I was actually surprised when I found him already hard. He blushed, but it made no impact on him as he gently pushed my shoulders down, and I felt him come inside me for the first time. My fingers tangled into his thick, jet black mane of curly hair.

I had expected it to feel wonderful and it did at first, but then reality hit and something tore painfully. It made me wince and made Jon immediately pull out. "Am I hurting you, Lyara?"

_You came thoughtfully  
Loved me faithfully  
You taught me honor  
You did it for me_

"No. No. Sorry." It took me a moment but I ensnared his hips again. This emotion, the primal hunger that was stirring in my loins for him helped push aside the pain. (It was only after we'd finished that I'd realised the soreness was him breaking my maidenhead. How stupid I was.) He seemed content with that and started again. It didn't hurt as much, though the twinge was still there. The funny thing was, I couldn't break my gaze away from his. His eyes just drew mine and locked them there. My whole body was responding to him, all of our (inexperienced) movements happening together, and I feasted on his full lips as I felt myself tense, and then shudder when his seed filled me.

_Tonight you will sleep for good  
You will wait for me, my love_

Now I am strong, you gave me all  
You gave all you had  
And now I am home

I sighed happily as he rolled over and gripped my naked body to his, finished. "I think that rule was meant to be broken." He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to my nose. I grinned. "I have an idea-if you're ready."

**Jon**

The second time we made love was less difficult than the first. I wasn't thinking too much about rules and vows (I was telling myself I hadn't taken the Black yet so it didn't count) but thinking more about how her small breasts felt under my palms. Wonderfully firm, yet fleshy, almost like ripe peaches. Thinking about the way it felt whenever I felt a glorious shiver run through her after we reached a peak. We were meant for each other; this I knew more than anything.

_My love, leave yourself behind  
Beat inside me, leave you blind  
My love, look what you can do  
I am mending, I'll be with you_

I dipped my head to playfully tease her left nipple with my teeth, and felt it toughen satisfactorily. I had heard from both Robb and Theon that bedding a woman was life's greatest pleasure, but I hadn't known that it could be this enjoyable. Her hazel-green eyes glazed over as a final climax took both of us by surprise, and I emptied myself into her, drawing a moan from between Lyara's teeth. "What was that about never lying with a man?" she asked shakily, chuckling.

"It became an untruth shortly after I said it," I laughed. I felt better than I had in a long time-but the worry that, especially after we had done it twice, I had gotten her pregnant. Hopefully she was right, and I knew it was likely that she was correct that her bleed would probably stop a child being planted inside her. It wasn't one of my goals to father children, but to give her a bastard and have her killed just for the sake of an illegitimate child was something I couldn't do.

Then a memory came to my head, and an admittedly smug sense of satisfaction washed over me. Theon hadn't had her maidenhead, _I _had. She'd asked me to take it, whereas Theon Greyjoy had gotten a few token kisses and no more when he'd repeatedly asked her to go to bed with him. Childish though that smugness was, it wasn't going anywhere just yet.

_You took my hand and added a plan  
You gave me your heart  
I asked you to dance with me  
You loved honestly  
Did what you could release_

"Did you enjoy that as much as I did?"

"No, not at all," I replied in a mock-serious voice. Then I switched back to normal. "Unfortunately, I don't have it in me to mount you again so we can reverse that. What a shame."

"Ah, well." She sat up, wincing and cussing. "Gods be good, you did me over. I'm aching from that." There was a mischievous glint in her eye. "Want to kiss it better?" I shook my head, hiding a grin.

"The only place on your body I'll be kissing will be your lips, and count yourself lucky."

"Too bad." A smile settled on the very same place. "I love you, Jon Snow. I love you more than anyone else in the world. Don't forget that. You're my dark-haired, grey-eyed angel."

"I love you too-but far more than words can say. You've made me feel whole again."

I stood up, feeling a healthy breeze around my naked manhood, and bent down again to lift her onto the bed and under the covers. "Goodnight, Lyara. Sweet dreams."

"Are you staying?" I thought about this for a moment. Would I rather stay and get warm under the covers in this room with my lover or walk up a few flights of cold stairs? In the end, I chose the former, and slept peacefully with my arms hugging her bare body.

_I know, in peace you'll go  
I won't relieve this love  
Now I am strong, you gave me all  
You gave all you had  
And now I am home _

_My love, leave yourself behind  
Beat inside me, I'll be with you_

I was woken early by the sounds of a castle also stretching and waking. Lyara was still sleeping, so I dressed quietly and slipped out of the room, closing the door softly as I went.

I had never seen the world beyond the Wall, and a rush of excitement filled me as I padded along the road to the winch. It was snowing, and freezing cold to boot compared to Lyara's body sleeping next to mine and warming the bed. Even so, I entered the cage and was winched up to the top of the Wall, shivering as it grew even colder. Uncle Benjen awaited me and was already standing over a fire held by a brazier. I smiled and hugged him by way of greeting.

The wind howled and raked at my cloak, filled with what could only be described as bloodlust, as I looked over the edge of the Wall. Miles upon miles of trees, snow-covered and nearly malevolent-looking, stretched out, ice mist from the Wall settling over them like a wolf's mantle. It sent a shiver of adrenaline running through my frozen veins. "I wanted to be here, when you saw it for the first time," my Uncle told me. "I'm leaving this morning."

"You're leaving?" I asked, surprised.

"I'm the First Ranger. My job is out there. There's been disturbing reports."

"What kind of reports?"

"The kind I don't want to believe." His voice was grave.

"I'm ready. I won't let you down," I promised.

"You're not going," he answered. "You're no ranger, Jon." A spark of anger lit inside me.

"But I'm better than every other-"

"You're better than no-one! Here, a man gets what he earns, when he earns it. We'll speak when I return." He placed a hand on my shoulder, and then left, leaving me to think about just why I was so hated by the others.


	8. I Miss Our Little Talks

So, Jon and Lyara have finally admitted their feelings for one another-in more ways than one. I don't own Game of Thrones, Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men (requested by **dontneedtoknow1**, so enjoy-bold is the male singer, italic the female and bold and italic the both of them together)or A Song of Ice and Fire.

Chapter Eight

**Lyara**

When I woke up, I instantly knew that Jon had left. The bed, other than the space that I took up, was empty and cold. I sighed. My body still ached from the night before. However, judging by the light coming from the square hole in the wall, it was morning and time for training. I dressed again, pleased to notice my now absent red flower, and headed down to the yard.

I was met by a welcome sight. Jon, grinning as he used to, handing a sword back to Grenn, who was also smiling. "Don't stand so still. It's harder to hit a moving target," he instructed. "Except for you. You move too much," he said to Pyp. "I could just hold my sword out and let you do the work for me."

The day passed nicely without Ser Alliser breathing down our necks, which we knew would only be temporary, but we could make the most of it today. Unfortunately, no-one can be that lucky, and the dinnertime conversation lead to the subject Jon and I had been avoiding all day-fucking. "So, Snow, who was your first?" Grenn asked as a start.

"Me or Liam?" Jon questioned, as I had my mouth full.

"You first." He raised a dark eyebrow at me, barely noticeable if you weren't watching. I gave an imperceptible nod of the head.

"There was a girl back in Winterfell."

"Please continue," grinned Pyp, still chewing.

"Her name was Lyara, and we'd been friends since we were little. One thing led to another, and..." He shrugged. Pyp groaned.

"You didn't tell us anything! What were her tits like? Was it any good? Was she a whore?" I choked audibly on my food at that, so much so that Jon had to thump me across the back.

"No, she wasn't a whore, but it was good all the same. She was a blacksmith's foster daughter. She was more beautiful than any girl I'd ever met. She had a brilliant smile, almost wicked, like a rebel's. And she was, in every way possible, my best friend."

"How sweet! Were you in _love _with her, Lord Snow?" Grenn teased in a mock-soprano, pouting. Jon tackled him playfully, while Pyp and I laughed at the other side of the table.

"Maybe I was," Jon chuckled when they reappeared. "Maybe I still am."

"Why'd you come here then?"

"I had nothing to give her, or anyone else."

"You could have given her your cock! Sounds like she'd have been more than happy to take it!" Grenn ended up on his arse on the ground then, laughing his head off. I shook my head. Boys.

**Jon**

Lyara and Pyp were gone for the rest of the evening and half the night now, on watch duty. I would be too, but not until much later. Ser Alliser had been absent from any and all activities that took place. I half hoped he'd gone beyond the Wall and would be missing for a few months, but to no avail for I passed him in the corridor. Oh well-it had been nice while it lasted. He glared at me balefully. I walked straight past, trying to ignore the eyes that were searing into my back.

I was finding my existence more pleasant now that I was friends with the other recruits. Well, most of them, as Rast seemed hells bent on making friends with no-one but Halder and Toad, and vice versa. Grenn and I sparred until it was too dark to see and I managed to knock his legs out from under him for the sixth time. "I know, I know. Don't stand still," he sighed. Then he shot me a look. "You know, you're not as much of a complete git when it gets down to it." I raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a compliment?"

"Maybe." He slung his practice sword over his shoulder. "'Night, Jon."

"'Night, Grenn."

It was the first time he ever called me by my name.

I was starting to be glad of all the heavy wool and fur. More so than at Winterfell. It was icy cold here, enough to freeze fingers off. However I hadn't noticed the temperature much last night...a smile played on my lips as I remembered. Hardin's Tower loomed in front of me, along with the thick gloves I needed to retrieve for watch duty. Climbing the stairs, I began to try and remember where I'd put them. I'd find out in a minute anyway.

I cast my gaze around. No gloves. Looked in the drawer. No gloves. Looked under the narrow bed. No gloves. Damn it, where were they? Frustration was settling in. Until I heard a door close downstairs from me. Lyara's room. I'd left them in there-probably when I was too busy to notice they were gone. Typical.

She was asleep when I knocked but awoke when I opened the door. "Not tonight," she mumbled as I went to pick up my gloves-which were lying in a heap in the corner. My eyes strayed to her, sitting up in bed, leaning on her forearms. Her short hair was tousled, her eyes glassy with sleep. I smiled affectionately.

"I just needed my gloves. Go back to sleep."

_**Hey!**_

My gaze was riveted on the horizon but my mind was elsewhere. The fire didn't give much warmth on top of the Wall, even as I daydreamed, even as thoughts of summer days danced like falling leaves through my consciousness. One day in particular; when I was a few months away from turning thirteen years old, and Father had ridden out to Torrhen's Square the previous day on business. I was waiting for him to come back-he'd promised to teach me and Robb to fish when he returned.

_**Hey!**_

**Flashback**

"_What do you want to do when you get old?" I asked Lyara. She wrinkled her nose and shrugged._

"_I don't know. There's not really much to do. I'm expected to fall in love with a 'suitable' man, get married, and breed like a rabbit," she groaned. "Yuck. What about you?"_

"_There's not much for me to do either. Maybe we should marry each other," I joked. She considered this._

"_All right. Let's get married."_

"_I was playing! I didn't mean it."_

"_No, you've proposed to me now, you can't just bow out." She giggled. Then hesitated. "I don't know the words." I decided to go along with it._

"_We'll make some up!" I started to laugh. "Are you coming to the godswood, my fair Lady Lyara?"_

"_Only if you can keep up," she retorted, sprinting off in its direction. _

_She was right; I couldn't keep up with her. I got there a full five minutes after she did, having to slow to a walk after a while. She was leaning against a tree with her arms folded. "Tut tut! I can't believe you showed up late to your own wedding!"_

"_You're-faster-than-I-am," I panted, out of breath and having to double up. _

_**Hey!**_

_I don't like walking around this old and empty house _**So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear **_The stairs creak as I sleep; it's keeping me awake _**It's the house telling you to close your eyes**

_Some days I can't even trust myself  
_**It's killing me to see you this way**

"_You're right on that account. Come on then." We ended up kneeling in front of the weirwood, gripping each other's hands-somewhat damply, I remember now. Lyara was trying hard not to laugh. Inspiration suddenly stuck, and I unfastened my cloak, trying to drape it over her without much success as she squirmed away. "What are you doing?!"_

"_Don't brides have a maiden's cloak?"_

"_Oh, right." She let me hang it over her back, the soft black material pooling around where she knelt. "Now I remember! Orla taught me the stupid words once-not that I wanted to know."_

"_How does it go?"_

"_With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband. Then you say the same except you take me for your lady and wife. Then we kiss." I scrunched my face up._

"_That's disgusting!"_

"_Do you want to do this or not?" I sighed._

"_With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife." She leapt up. _

"_Stay there, I need to get berries."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because we're supposed to put the juice on our lips and kiss it off! Don't you know __**anything**__?" She shook her head teasingly, tossing her sable waves. She left and reappeared a few minutes later with some wild blueberries, which she quickly crushed in her hand and wiped over her mouth, then mine. "Ready?" I nodded, apprehensive. I had never kissed a girl before._

_We leaned into the kiss uncertainly, and each gave the other a quick peck on the lips. Then we broke apart quickly, complaining and rubbing our lips with the backs of our hands. "There. We're married," she said finally. _

"_All right then. Does that mean you have to do what I say?"_

"_Gods, no. Put it this way, Jon-if you start that I'll whack you one."_

_**'Cause though the truth may vary  
This ship will carry  
Our bodies safe to shore**_

Hey!

_**Hey!**_

_**Hey!**_

_There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back  
_**Well, tell her that I miss our little talks  
**_Soon it will all be over, buried with our past  
_**We used to play outside when we were young,  
And full of life and full of love**

"_Lyara? Do you want to kiss me again?"_

"_No! I don't ever want to kiss anyone again, ever."_

**End of flashback**

Lyara gave me my first kiss that day. We had both nearly forgotten it, and if it was mentioned it was done so fleetingly and only to laugh at how childish we'd been. Being grown up wasn't much better in comparison.

It wasn't all bad, I suppose. There were some perks to adulthood-including being able to use a real sword. The downside to it was with being a grown man came a grown man's desire to use his cock for more than just taking a piss. That wasn't a downside normally but for men of the Night's Watch that desire wasn't helpful. I'd given into it twice; and only once had I followed it through. Ros had been perfect, classically beautiful, and magnificently breasted (if a whore), but I hadn't been able to do it. Lyara was flawed, beautiful in a more mysterious sense and didn't have much of a chest, and I had been more than happy to share her bed for the night.

Someone spoke. "Would you be so kind as to swap places with me so I can fulfil my ambition?" It was Tyrion.

"And what would that ambition be?" I asked.

"To piss off of the edge of the world." A strange ambition to have, I thought, but I moved anyway.

_Some days I feel I am wrong when I'm right  
_**Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear**

_**'Cause though the truth may vary  
This ship will carry  
Our bodies safe to shore**_

Hey!  
Don't listen to a word I say  
Hey!  
The screams all sound the same  
Hey!

Though the truth may vary  
This ship will carry  
Our bodies safe to shore

_****_He took his time about it. I had to wonder just how much piss he could hold-for about two seconds. Then I immediately repressed the thought. Tyrion turned back, making to go. "I'm sorry to see you leave, Lannister," I told him. It wasn't a lie; I would miss him. Surprise registered on his face, but he pushed it down quickly.

"It's either me or this cold, and it doesn't appear to be going anywhere," he shrugged.

"Will you stop at Winterfell on your way south?"

"I expect I will. Gods know, there aren't many feather beds between here and King's Landing."

"If you see my brother Bran, tell him I miss him. Tell him I'd visit if I could."

"Of course."

"He'll never walk again."

"If you're going to be a cripple, it's better to be a rich cripple." I guess it was true. "Take care, Snow." He proffered his hand for me to shake. I did so, warmly.

"Farewell, my lord."

So many people had disappeared from my life and so many people had come into it. It wasn't so bad. After all, only good can come of making friends. Usually.

_**You're gone, gone, gone away  
I watched you disappear  
All that's left is a ghost of you  
Now we're torn, torn, torn apart, there's nothing we can do  
Just let me go, we'll meet again soon  
Now wait wait wait for me  
Please hang around  
I'll see you when I fall asleep**_

Hey!  
Don't listen to a word I say  
Hey!  
The screams all sound the same  
Hey!

Though the truth may vary  
This ship will carry  
Our bodies safe to shore

Don't listen to a word I say  
Hey!  
The screams all sound the same  
Hey!

**Lyara**

Sleep came to me easily that night. But with this came dreams; and my dreams had not been pleasant of late.

_My feet strike the ground so fast my legs are aching. I'm running from something or someone, I know, but what, or who? By the wheezing, panting noise coming from my throat I've been going for a while. My eyes search desperately for somewhere to hide, to escape, but find nothing. The trees have no branches near the trunk. Finally, I trip, falling straight onto my side and from the feel of it, shattering a rib. On second thoughts, maybe it was two or three ribs. I don't care-I need to get further away from my pursuer._

_Every single breath begins to sear in my throat as if I've swallowed wildfire when I get back up and start limping/running again. But then I fall one last time and I can feel the sickening, blinding pain of bone snapping. My right leg lies underneath me at a strange angle. I start to sob, knowing that everything is useless now, that no matter what I will die._

_The thing chasing me bursts through the underbrush, snarling. Up close, I see that it's a massive black wolf, its fur curling slightly around the ears and chest. Its slate-grey eyes focus on me and they __**hate**__. I open my mouth to speak._

"_Please..." I whisper._

_Jon bares his long, sharp white teeth and lunges for my throat then._

I screamed as I awoke, sweating, terrified absolutely witless. Just as the short, piercing cry subsided and I clutched my blanket, Jon burst through the door of my quarters to find me shaking and sobbing into my knees. "What is it? Lyara, what's happened?" he asked, astonished to find me crying.

"It was just a s-stupid n-n-nightmare," I wept, unable to stop my howling. He looked almost frightened when he approached (very, _very _cautiously) but nevertheless he scooped me into his arms, and sat with me on the bed, stroking my back and hair to soothe me.

"Ssh, ssh. It's all right now, I'm here. It was only a dream, Lyara, dreams can't hurt you. Even if they could, I wouldn't let them." I ended up getting tears and snot all over the front of his shirt as I cried. He was trying quite hard to be calm in a completely foreign situation-he'd never seen me cry before. It was very kind of him not to whack some sense into me. Well, that's what I would have done had I not been a wreck in that moment. I pulled away once I'd managed to shove the wails down to a snuffle, embarrassed.

"Sorry about your clothes," I apologized, wiping the remains away from my face.

_**Though the truth may vary  
This ship will carry  
Our bodies safe to shore**_

Though the truth may vary  
This ship will carry  
Our bodies safe to shore

Though the truth may vary  
This ship will carry  
Our bodies safe to shore

"They can be washed." Jon pressed a kiss to my forehead. "In a way I'm glad I got to see you cry." I stared.

"Why the fuck would you want to see that?"

"Because now I know for true that you can cry and actually feel sorrow like anybody else." Glaring at him, I punched his shoulder, or maybe it was his collarbone, but it was a very feeble hit and I only ended up hurting my knuckles.

"You can be so annoying sometimes." He chuckled, giving me a rare smile. "I mean it." All that did was make him lean back and pull me into his arms.

"And you can be so idiotic and stubborn." I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his warm smell, the scent of boy and snow and sweat and even a hint of wolf from Ghost. The thought of wolves made me tense up again and I had to fight hard to keep from sobbing anew.

"Please don't go tonight, Jon. Please. Promise me you won't go," I almost begged.

"I won't go. I promise." He played with my hair for a moment. "Go back to sleep. You need some rest or you'll be too tired to even lift a sword in the morning."

"Will you sing for me?" He looked perturbed, but he sighed.

"I don't really know any songs, love."

"Anything will do."

"All right, all right. As long as you go to sleep."

"I promise. Archer's honor." He cleared his throat and began to sing softly.

"_I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair..._" I closed my eyes obediently, and focused on sleepy thoughts. "_I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair..._" My thoughts began to blur together, twisting and intertwining confusingly. "_I loved a maid as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair..._" I was drifting off when he finished the extremely short song. _"And I loved a maid as lovely as spring, with dawn in her hair._" My world turned to darkness, and I was sleeping.

**Jon**

"And I loved a fierce girl named Lyara, with night's kiss in her hair, and she was even more beautiful than the others," I whispered after my song drew to a close. "More beautiful, courageous and hotheaded by far."


	9. Don't Die For Me, Jon

I do not own Game of Thrones, Crazier by Taylor Swift or A Song of Ice and Fire. By the way, you really are welcome to ask me to put your favourite song in with a chapter. Feel free.

Chapter Nine

**Jon**

It had been nearly a month now since Lyara and I had come to Castle Black, and life had definitely looked up. The only fly in the soup was Ser Alliser, and sometimes he was too busy to show his face. Grenn and Pyp were getting better at swordplay every day; each respectively could last five whole minutes without tripping or being defeated now. Lyara could hold her own against me now for much longer than she had ever done before. Her body was now more muscle than anything else, her belly flattened until I could circle her waist with my hands and her limbs lithe and sinewy from the countless hours spent sparring and shooting. It helped her look more like a boy once she was covered, anyway.

"Shoulder. Legs. Leg, shoulder, leg. Left foot forward. Good. Now pivot as you deliver the stroke, and all your weight behind it-" I was interrupted by Grenn's exclamation of-

"What in Seven Hells is _that_?" I turned my head to behold a rather fat lordling waddling across the training yard. Ser Alliser walked beside him, pointedly ignoring him and possibly pretending that he wasn't there. I felt sorry for this new boy; whoever he was, he would undoubtedly be the butt of Thorne's cruelty for the next week or so.

"They'll need an Eighth Hell to fit him in," Pyp guffawed.

"Tell them your name," Ser Alliser commanded the boy with boredom in his voice. The new recruit looked scared out of his wits. This was in no way the usual type that we got at the Wall-they normally looked either fascinated or resigned. In fact this one was going so far as to tremble. I worried for him.

"Samwell Tarly, of Horn Hill. I mean, I was of Horn Hill, but..." He trailed off and bit his lip nervously. "I've come to take the Black."

"Come to take the black pudding," mocked Rast. Grenn and Pyp laughed with him. Lyara hung back, looking at Samwell Tarly sympathetically. He caught her gaze with an expression like a frightened rabbit's. A frightened rabbit that has just been snared by a farmer.

"Well, you couldn't be any worse than you look. Right. See what he can do," Thorne growled.

Rast was put up against the fat boy first. Samwell tried hard to look menacing, at least, but the moment the blunt sword tapped him he cried out and fell, trying to protect his head. "I yield!" he wailed. "Please, no more!"

"On your feet. Pick up your sword." When he did no such thing, Ser Alliser nodded at Rast. "Hit him, until he finds his feet!" I averted my eyes briefly, and then looked back. Tarly was yelping like a cowed puppy with pain, and no wonder, Rast was hitting him hard enough to dent Valyrian steel. No-one was laughing now, not even at his expense. I chewed my bottom lip. "Seems they've run short of poachers and thieves down south; now they send us squealing bloody pigs!" I moved forward, to try and save Samwell from another beating, but Pyp held me back. "Again, harder."

Samwell's screams became a soprano. "_I YIELD_!" he sobbed, reduced to snivelling. I could hold my tongue no longer. This was blatantly unfair.

"**Enough**! He yielded," I snapped, going over to him and wrenching him off the ground. I pushed him over to where I had stood.

"Looks like The Bastard's in love," Thorne remarked annoyingly. "All right then, Lord Snow. You wish to defend your lady love?" _Go to the deepest of the Hells, Thorne._ "Let's make it an exercise. You three. Four of you ought to be sufficient to make Lady Piggy squeal." Pyp, Grenn, Lyara and Rast got into a line in front of me. "All you've got to do is get past The Bastard."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked Grenn.

"No," he replied, looking grim.

Rast, as usual, was first to attack. I shoved my knee into his groin and blocked him with my sword, pushing him down on the ground. Pyp I elbowed in the face. Grenn I knocked down with a parry and a good shove in the gut. Rast came back again, getting in a hit at my shoulder. Pain screamed, but I ignored it as I floored my enemy again. Lyara waited on the sidelines. "What are you waiting for, the grass to grow? Get in there, you craven," Ser Alliser hissed at her. She grit her teeth in anger. If there was one thing Lyara wasn't, it was craven. But pride got the better of sense here and she came at me like a mountain lion defending its young. She put up a hard fight, but after a few minutes I had her pinned to the ground with one knee. Grenn posed no problem as I left Lyara winded on the floor and rushed at him.

"Yield, yield, yield," he protested quickly. "I yield."

"We're done for today. Go clean the armoury. That's all you're good for," Thorne smiled maliciously. I think he was talking to me. Not sure-he had that same smile for everyone. Pyp grinned.

"Well fought," he joked towards Grenn.

"Piss off," the latter grunted. Rast gave me a dirty look as he passed. Lyara was getting off the ground, doubling up to get her breath back.

"Did they hurt you?" inquired Samwell, concerned.

"I've had worse," I shrugged.

"You can call me Sam, if you want. My mother calls me Sam-"

"It's not going to get any easier, you know. You're going to have to defend yourself!"

"Yeah, why didn't you get up and fight?" Grenn asked.

"I wanted to. I just couldn't."

"Why not?" Sam paused.

"I'm a coward. My father always says so."

"The Wall's no place for cowards," I reasoned.

"I know, you're right. I'm sorry. I just...wanted to thank you." With that he waddled off clumsily, picking his sword off the ground as he went. The four of us watched for a moment.

"What a bloody coward. You know, people saw us talking to him! Now they'll think we're cowards too," Grenn snarled.

"You're too stupid to be a coward," Pyp told him, rolling his eyes.

"Well you're too stupid to be a-"

"Quick now, before summer's over!" Grenn pounced on him, but too late as he stepped back and then sprinted off.

"Come here!" Muffled laughter, curses and blows could now be heard from inside the armoury. I shook my head. They could be so childish.

Lyara had already started cleaning the armoury when I eventually got there. Other than her, no one was inside. I flicked my gaze around, making sure, then pulled her by her jerkin into a kiss. She slid her arms around my waist. "Morning," I murmured.

"I didn't know mornings began like this. I'll have to make an effort to like them more now," she joked, slightly breathless. Suddenly she took her arms away, quick as anything, and got scrubbing again. I almost protested but realised she'd heard someone coming as Ser Alliser entered, glaring at us.

"Lord Snow, you're on watch duty tomorrow morning, early. Don't let me catch you dozing off. You too, Common Snow," he announced. "You're with Aurochs." Lyara scowled at his back as he walked off.

"Kiss my arse," she muttered. She saw my face. "Not you!"

"Oh, what a shame."

**Lyara**

Samwell "Sam" Tarly sat in the corner of the mess hall alone, huddled over his food. There was rather a wide area around him. I considered forgetting this and sitting with Jon and my other friends, but I knew the right thing to do. Orla would have been ashamed of me if I hadn't. I plonked my arse down next to him, ignoring Grenn's shouts of invitation. "Hello," I offered cheerily. "How're you?" He looked scared.

"F-fine. I'm-"

"Samwell Tarly, I know. I was in the yard this morning. I'd tell you not to let them knock you around like that, but I suppose that's a bit useless." Realisation struck. "Wait, you're not Lord Randyll Tarly's son, are you?" By the way his gaze riveted on a splinter immediately, I knew I was right.

"Yes," he answered hoarsely.

"All right then. I'm Liam Snow-it's nice to meet you, Samwell." He looked happier now, meeting my gaze.

"You can call me Sam. Were-were you Lord Snow?"

"No, no. Lord Snow's a highborn bastard, and he's got a beard. I'm a baker's bastard and I'm clean shaven."

"You look a bit alike."

"It's the dark hair. We don't look that much alike."

It was very true-and one of the most important differences was between my legs.

Grenn was good company during a long watch. His company wasn't quite as good as Jon's had been when he was naked in my bed but good all the same. Until he started asking questions. "So, Snow, where'd you come from?" he asked after I listened to a lengthy (and rather funny) tale of how he'd come _this _close to a black bear.

"The North," I answered. This was what I said whenever anyone asked me where I was from.

"I meant which town." I had to think about this. I ended up telling him the truth anyway; I had never been far from home.

"Winterfell."

"Same as Lord Snow? Did you know him before now?"

"'Course not, stupid, he's Lord Stark's son."

"He's a bastard, too."

"There wasn't a Bastard's Guild, for the Gods' sakes. We didn't meet regularly to discuss the woes of being baseborn. I might have seen him now and then when my father needed an extra pair of hands for a feast, but I didn't speak a word to him or his half-siblings." This was an outright lie, and not one I enjoyed telling. I'd gotten on very well with most of the Stark family, especially Bran and Arya. Their father I had met a few times but I had helped Bran bend his first bow and taught Arya how to do a cartwheel without hurting herself. A lot of my memories came from them and their bastard brother and I hated myself for besmirching them. I should have just kept my head down like a good girl and listened to Orla, and I would have been in Winterfell right now fast asleep in my bed. _Without Jon_, that irritating voice in my head reminded me, _he wouldn't have waited for you to buck up and have the guts to tell him you loved him. He'd still be here while you ached for him_. _He obviously doesn't love you that much, or he'd have stayed in Winterfell and taken you to wife. Idiot._

I also hated the voice in my head. It was always maddeningly right.

**Jon**

Being on watch three nights in a row was exhausting, considering I had other duties to do in the day, but it also promised me a night or two off in the next week or so. That I looked forward to more than anything else, as it meant what would be a peaceful, dreamless sleep, and I would gladly pay any price for that now. I was standing alone, warming my hands above the welcome fire when I heard footsteps. A nervous voice quavered in the air. "Hello. Ser Alliser said I'm to be your new watch partner," Sam Tarly explained, staying a fair and inexplicable distance away from me and the only source of heat on the top of the Wall. "I should warn you, I don't see all that well."

"Come stand by the fire," I told him, turning around. "It's warmer."

"No, that's all right, I'm fine." He said it quickly enough to arouse suspicion.

"You're not. You're freezing."

Samwell hesitated for a few moments, fidgeting, but nodded slowly and stepped forward a few paces to stand beside me. "I don't like high places," he mumbled. I felt sorry for him, but I was also slightly annoyed. Why in the Hells would he come here if he was so bloody craven? _Arya _was bolder and braver than he was, in fact, so was little Rickon. It was getting up my arse. I turned my face away so he wouldn't see my irked expression.

"You can't fight. You can't see. You're afraid of heights and almost everything else, probably." I looked at him. "What are you doing here, Sam?" He stared at his feet a second and took a breath, clearly ashamed and uncomfortable. I immediately felt bad for my remark. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut when it mattered?

"On the morning of my eighteenth name-day, my father came to me. 'You're almost a man now,' he said, 'but you are not worthy of my land and title. Tomorrow, you're going to take the Black, forsake all claim to your inheritance and start North. If you do not,' he said, 'Then we'll have a hunt, and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you'll be thrown from your saddle to die. Or so I'll tell your mother. Nothing would please me more.'"

This confession shocked me to my core. I couldn't comprehend why anyone being so cruel (except maybe Ser Alliser, who probably boiled live newborn puppies in his free time) to their own son. I was the product of my father's adultery, but I could never imagine him threatening to kill me, even if I were a disappointment to him, as Sam was to his father. The former spoke, changing the subject. "Ser Alliser's going to make me fight again tomorrow, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is." Compassion had kindled in my heart, and I hated Ser Alliser more than I usually did for this. Sam groaned, unhappy.

"I'm not going to get any better, you know!" I couldn't resist this.

"Well...you can't get any worse." Sam's melancholy face became one of amusement as he started to laugh. I joined in more than happily.

When we switched with the next pair so we could go down to breakfast, Sam parted my company. "I'm not hungry, just tired," he insisted, and made for his sleeping cell.

"Where've you been?" Grenn asked me when I sat down in the mess hall, his mouth full. Pyp sat with him, but Lyara was missing.

"Watch duty, with Sam," I replied, taking my heavy cloak off.

"Ah, Prince Porkchop. Where is he?" inquired Pyp, struggling not to laugh.

"He wasn't hungry."

"Impossible!" Grenn joined in when Pyp gave in to his chuckles.

"That's enough." They both looked at me, surprised. I took a bowl from the end of the table, and sat down again. It wasn't fair to pick on Sam, and I intended to put a stop to it. "Sam's no different from the rest of us. There's no place for him in the world so he's come here. You're not going to hurt him in the training yard any more, never again, no matter what Thorne says. He's our brother now and we're going to protect him."

"You are in love, Lord Snow!" Rast snorted from the table behind us, the other recruits sniggering as well. I wheeled around and gave him my calmest look, regarding him coolly. "You girls can do as you please. But if Thorne puts me up against Lady Piggy, I'm going to slice me off a side of bacon." More laughter as I turned my back to him again. I had a way to make him stop-he wouldn't enjoy it, but I would do it anyway. Later.

Lyara's absence worried me a little. Her quarters were empty, she wasn't at the archery grounds or in the courtyard. Finally, I came upon her in the stables, retrieving a saddle from the tack room. She heard me. "Hello, Jon," she smiled, facing me.

"Are you leaving?" I asked shortly, upset that she would want to. _Selfish_, I thought. _She wouldn't stay here only for you, she had a life and family before this_.

"Gods, no. I'm being sent out to hunt, to see if I'm any good as a ranger. I assume no-one told you that you're supposed to be coming with me?" My puzzled expression was rewarded with a mischievous rebel's grin. "Come on then, get a wriggle on. Bring Ghost, too, if you want." I did indeed want. By the time I came back with him and my sword, she'd already gotten two horses ready. I mounted up smoothly, and couldn't help but smile at her trying desperately to get on the horse without falling off.

_I've never gone with the wind  
Just let it flow  
Let it take me where it wants to go to  
You open the door  
There's so much more  
I've never seen it before_

"Do you want some help?"

"I'm fine." I bit my cheek to keep from laughing and swung back down. Reaching for her leg, I had my hand slapped away sharply and received a glare. "I don't need any help!"

"Yes, you do. Stand still." She growled something under her breath that I doubted was complimentary, but complied and allowed me to lift her onto the horse. "There. That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Lyara and horses didn't mix well-within three seconds of the gates to the Haunted Forest being shut, the dark brown stallion she was on stopped and refused to move. Maybe he was scared of the woods, or maybe he was doing it because he knew he could get away with it. She clicked her tongue. The horse still didn't move. "Right, if you don't get moving, I will geld you myself with a blunt knife. Do you understand?" she hissed. Apparently, the horse understood, because he gave an annoyed snort and moved on. "Thank you."

She wasn't a fantastic rider either. In fact she was so bad that I ended up linking my bay mare's reins to her stallion's for the sake of actually getting somewhere. As soon as we were out of sight of the Wall I pulled her carefully onto my own mount, in front of me. I was painfully aware of how close my hands were to her breasts at this point. If I moved them up a few centimetres...I bit my tongue to refrain from doing so. Eventually she got off, anyway. "We can't hunt on horseback. We'll scare any game away," she insisted pointedly. Taking her bow from her shoulder, she fit an arrow to the string and disappeared further into the trees. I followed, slightly uneasy.

_I was trying to fly  
But I couldn't find wings  
But you came along and you changed everything_

It wasn't too dark in the woods but my gut twisted. I had an awful feeling about this place. Not only that but I had managed to lose Lyara _again_.

I stumbled through the woods into a small clearing, calling her name. No answer. I was beginning to panic. "LYARA!" A twig snapped behind me, and I instantly spun around. "Lyara?" It was not her. Instead it was Ghost, padding along behind me. Blood streaked his muzzle and he had half a rabbit hanging out of his mouth. Pale sunlight filled the glade, making the snow and frost glitter beautifully. It was peaceful until an irritated voice whispered-

"You're letting every living soul for miles know we're here! There I am trying to shoot a deer and you blunder around howling like a lost puppy!" I couldn't see Lyara-on the ground anyway. "Up here." She was crouched on the branch of a tree. My feelings were a little hurt after her tongue-lashing. She noticed my countenance and softened. "Just be quieter in the future." She leaped from the tree, landing on the balls of her feet, and crossed to me gracefully. I was astounded.

"You didn't fall over!"

"Ssh! Gods be good, will you shut up?!"

"But you didn't fall over."

"If I fall over in a fight, I'll die because a wildling will ram his spear up my cunt or worse. I've had to grow into my own skin a bit Get used to it." She grinned cheekily and pulled me into a whirlwind kiss.

I was out of breath more so than usual when we finished. Lyara scratched Ghost behind his left ear, her pale skin almost brown compared to his bright white fur, and walked away with a smooth stride. Well, apart from the slight trip over her own foot that she tried to hide. I smiled. Not all of the familiar things that were..._Lyara_ were gone. Sneaking after her with a velvet tread (so much for scaring off game), I grabbed her from behind and lifted her into the air, her thighs resting on my shoulders. She squealed in surprise and fright. "JON! You tosser, let me DOWN!"

_You lift my feet off the ground  
You spin me around  
You make me crazier, crazier  
Feels like I'm falling and I am lost in your eyes  
You make me crazier, crazier, crazier_

"Now who's yowling like a lost puppy?" I teased, letting her down and kissing her nose. "I love you." She stared at me, shocked.

"What?"

"I love you. Don't look at me like that, you know it's true. I was the first of us to say it."

"I'm sorry, I know. You just haven't said that since, you've mostly been talking about other things when we actually _are_ alone together." Now I was the one who was amazed.

"I haven't...what do we talk about?"

"Well, I tried to persuade you to bed again once and you switched the conversation to Pyp's progress with swordplay. For the most part, we talk about other people. Once you even started a conversation by telling me you thought you saw the Wall dripping."

"Really?"

"Really. Our relationship isn't exactly the most romantic in Westeros, Jon." I crushed my mouth against hers again.

"Do you want to change that?" My hands were already at the laces of her breeches.

"I mean romance, Jon, not fucking. Though I won't say no if you're offering. Just not here."

"It's not that cold. I took your maidenhead on the floor, remember?"

"We have to hunt," she reminded me.

**Lyara**

We brought back nine rabbits (which I shot while Jon was failing to track a deer), a very large basket of various greens, nuts and edible mushrooms that we dug out of the snow (checked and double checked and even triple checked to make sure they weren't poisonous), six fish that Jon was lucky to spear, and best of all, I managed to correctly track the deer he'd frightened off and shoot it. It was a young doe. I actually felt guilty for shooting her. All this wasn't really that much when this had to feed a castle of hungry men but it was a decent amount of game and would do for now.

I was completely exhausted when Jon and I made it back to Hardin's Tower, but he picked me up for the second time and carried me in a bridal hold upstairs. I was too tired to complain about it. Then I realized what he wanted to do and I protested. "Jon, I said I wouldn't say no earlier but I'm really, really tired-"

"I'm not taking you to my room so I can take advantage of you like this. I'm taking you to my room so we can spend your last few conscious minutes together," he corrected wryly.

_I watched from a distance as you made life your own  
Every sky was your own kind of blue  
And I wanted to know how that would feel  
And you made it so real_

_You showed me something that I couldn't see  
You opened my eyes  
And you made me believe_

_You lift my feet off the ground  
You spin me around  
You make me crazier, crazier  
Feels like I'm falling and I am lost in your eyes  
You make me crazier, crazier, crazier_

"There won't be many of those minutes," I mumbled sleepily. He brushed those soft, full, lovely lips of his against my forehead.

"Every moment spent with you is a special one, whether they're in abundance or not."

He nudged the door open and set me down on his bed. The room was exactly the same as mine but it smelled of him, filling the small space with the wonderful scent of Jon Snow. "I love you, you know. I meant what I said; I love you more than anyone else in the world. I hope you know that. I really do." He smiled, and I drowned in his beautiful eyes. Drowned in them.

"I love you too. Give me a moment, I just need to do something-but then I'll be all yours." He slipped out of the room. I rolled my eyes. So much for spending time together, because I was literally dozing off. I think I fell asleep two minutes after that.

I didn't dream, but I was woken by someone very lightly kissing my lips. I groaned and opened my eyes. Jon was sitting by my side. He'd put a blanket over me to keep me from getting cold. "How long was I asleep?" I yawned.

"An hour or two, not long."

"Mm. How was your 'something'?"

"Fine. Nothing compared to watching you sleep. You snore."

"Sorry."

"It could be worse. Just remind me never to go to sleep before you do, ever." I glared at him but the look on his face made the frown melt into a smile and before I knew it, I was kissing him.

_Baby you showed me what living is for  
I don't wanna hide anymore  
Oh oh_

You lift my feet off the ground  
You spin me around  
You make me crazier, crazier  
Feels like I'm fallin' and I am lost in your eyes  
You make me crazier, crazier, crazier  
Crazier, crazier Crazier

I was so wrapped up in kissing him, in delighting in his tongue and the varying pressures of his lips and even the sweet smell of his cool breath, that I didn't hear the quiet gasp from the door. Jon did though, and he tore away from me to rip his dagger out of its sheath and pull the gasper through the door. Shit, shit, shit!

**Jon **

I held the blade to Sam's throat threateningly. "What did you see?" I hissed. He gulped, looking like he would piss himself. "Answer me, damn you!"

"Jon, leave him be!"

"Stay out of this."

"Y-you kissed L-Liam! T-that's what I saw! I-I j-just came to s-see you, p-please don't k-kill me!" Sam wept, shaking. Lyara was trying to physically drag me off of him now.

"Should we tell him?" I asked.

"He's seen us with our tongues down each other's throats, what's left to tell?" I turned back to Sam, and let him go. He didn't run. Instead he was watching me with fright in his eyes.

"What's g-going on?" I bit my lip.

"Liam's a girl. His-_her_ name, is Lyara."

"I don't understand! Why would a girl join the Night's Watch?"

"Because I love Jon," Lyara said quietly. "To be honest, I couldn't care less about anything else." We both stared at her. "What? If you'd gone to King's Landing, Jon, I would have followed you there in a heartbeat. I'd go to Valyria and back with you."

Either way, I fixed Sam with a steely glare. "Do not speak a word of what you just saw and heard to anyone. If you do, and she is harmed in any way-" I pointed to Lyara- "I will kill you. I will kill you very, very slowly, and I will let Ghost eat your sorry carcass. Do you understand?"

Sam nodded, still shaking. I relaxed. "Good. Thank you, Sam. You can go now." He nodded again and sped away as fast as his legs would carry him. "You see what you do to me?"

"I didn't make you put your knife to his throat! Gods, Jon, he's probably vomiting, or pissing himself, or both."

"I'd prefer he was doing that than telling someone about us and your head being on a spike." She didn't look too happy, but allowed me to pull her back into my arms. I kissed her shock of dark hair and stroked it. "I'll do anything to keep you safe. If I have to run with you and take you far away, I will do it. I promise." She wrestled with me until my lips were touching hers again.

"Don't do that for me. Don't you die for me. Ever."

"If I have to die, it will be a pleasure, as long as you're waiting for me when I get there."


	10. A Woman's Heart Is An Ocean Of Secrets

I don't own Game of Thrones, Iris by the Goo-Goo Dolls, So Cold by Ben Cocks (requested by Sarah-Snow-Stark, so enjoy) or A Song of Ice and Fire. AS I KEEP SAYING, YOU ARE ALLOWED TO REQUEST SONGS!

Chapter Ten

**Jon**

Sleep and I weren't close friends normally, but that night I wasn't even tired. I just kept staring at the door, knife in hand, waiting for someone to come in and snatch Lyara from me. '_Let them try_,' I thought. '_I'm ready_.' It hadn't taken long for her to fall asleep and stay that way, but she was having recurrent nightmares. She was drenched through with sweat, and emitted soft cries at intervals, and all I wanted to do was wake her up and rescue her from them. I was so lovesick it felt like my heart was breaking-because I knew, one way or another, sooner or later; I was going to have to give her up.

And I also knew I wasn't strong enough to do that. Not now I'd fallen in love with her.

I stopped watching the door an hour later, satisfied now that Sam had kept his word and no-one was coming through the door in the near future. Stripping to my undershirt and pulling on a pair of loose trousers, I slipped into bed and put my arms around the dark-haired girl, and felt the tension in Lyara's muscles relax. It felt good that I could make her happier. For now, at least, we were together, and that was all that mattered to me. I put my hand to her pale cheek. Her face was more angular than it had been, her short hair accenting that. Her cheekbones cut razor-sharp across it in a way that suggested woman, not girl. It was unsettling.

I held Lyara closer, burying my face in her soft hair. When I pulled back, it felt wet, and I realised I'd been crying. "Jon?" I swallowed my tears. I hoped she hadn't heard anything.

"Yes, Lyara?"

"Do you think I should leave?" My heart stopped beating.

"What?!" The words came out strangled and hoarse. "Why?"

"We can't go on like this. If Sam should tell anyone what he saw then it won't just be my head on the chopping block, it will be yours too, and if I can stop that happening then I'll do whatever is in my power."

_And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_

"You can't leave," I choked. "I've lost you once, I refuse to lose you again, _**no**_."

"All right, all right. I won't leave," she promised, with a soothing tone. "I love you, Jon. Whatever happens, I will always love you." I kissed her fiercely.

"And I you."

We stayed in the one position as sleep claimed Lyara once more, arms and legs intertwined; my chin on her head, which was snuggled comfortingly into my chest. "Please leave her with me," I prayed to the old gods. It would have been better if there had been a weirwood, but I had to make do. "Don't take her away. Please."

I couldn't leave with Lyara. We had nowhere to go-with my father in King's Landing; Lady Catelyn would bar the gates to Winterfell. I had nothing to offer her in the means of money or security. Only the irrevocable love I bore for her. Only me. I knew she wouldn't care much about that, or so I hoped, anyway, but I did. If her decision was to leave, I couldn't really stop her without feeling selfish and guilty. I'd already asked her not to go, and even that left a bad taste in my mouth. Ghost regarded me with his blood-red eyes, lying on the floor beside the door to my quarters.

_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cause sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight_

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

I knew the men of the Night's Watch took no wives and fathered no children. I hadn't taken my vows, so I was not an oathbreaker yet. But I soon would be; if I continued to hold onto her. I had ignored any sexual urges for a month. I didn't know how much longer I could go. If I didn't marry or bed her, would I still be an oathbreaker? Could I still love her or kiss her, or even merely touch her, once I'd taken the Black and said the words? All the questions were making my head spin. Eventually I just closed my eyes and slept.

**Lyara**

'_It's so nice here,' I thought. This place only came to me when things were particularly bad. A beautiful forest glade, where the world outside simply flew away. At least while I was asleep. It was preferable to my earlier nightmares, anyway. I winced._

_My favourite songbirds, mockingbirds, sang away happily above my head in the trees. A warm breeze ruffled the leaves and the sun shone into my glade where the grass was soft and the pool rippled. This place was the place no-one else knew about, not even Jon. "A woman's heart is an ocean of secrets," Orla had told me once. "Secrets she allows no-one else to know, like her dreams and fears and hopes." To be honest, Jon was the only thing that was missing. Try as I might, however, I couldn't make him appear. Probably because he didn't know the way. Theon I had seen once when we were together, in passing. Yes, Theon Greyjoy. I blame that mistake on having absolutely no taste when I was sixteen. I had also seen my parents wandering around on a few occasions, and Bran and Arya, but Jon evaded me. It was annoying. No matter how much I thought of him during the day or dreamed of him at night, it made no difference. Here was the once piece of my heart he didn't have completely. I tried not to think of what that might mean._

_**And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything feels like the movies  
Yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive**_

_I noticed happily that my hair was back to its previous length. I missed my hair. I couldn't hide behind my boy's haircut, but before, when it was long, it helped me when I wanted to hide anything. It flowed in a silky curtain to my waist. My good mood was gone when I realised I was wearing a gown. I hated dresses. It was a heavy garment, made of black brocade and grey lace. I fingered the soft material, fascinated by it. I hated dresses, but this one I might make an exception for. A pair of black lace slippers covered my feet. I had no idea why exactly I was wearing this sort of thing, I had no way to afford such fine clothes, but in dreams, I suppose the impossible becomes possible._

_Day turned to twilight. I hadn't ever stayed this long in my fantasy world. Fireflies appeared, and the delicious perfume of a forest at night made me sigh. The woods were coming alive. It was then I heard a voice. "Lya..." _

_Lya was my childhood nickname. But only one person knew it, because he had given it to me. _

_Maybe Jon did hold sway over this place after all._

_He stepped out of the woods to my left, a prince of darkness with jet in his hair and slate in his eyes. A white direwolf walked soundlessly beside him. I suddenly felt rather mediocre in comparison to this godlike creature, even in clothes fit for a lady. I stood up self-consciously, feeling the full weight of my gown. _

_He, too, was clothed in black. Black jerkin and tunic, black leggings, black boots. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I was struck dumb by his beauty. He was handsome in reality, ridiculously so, but this...it took my breath away. Amazingly, he was gazing at me as if I were the most radiant being in the world, and I had to wonder what he saw. _

_**And I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am**_

_He came closer, close enough to put his arms firmly around my waist. "Hello," he whispered with a voice like smoke, a smile lighting his face up._

"_Jon," I murmured. Then he kissed me._

_It wasn't really like any other kiss we'd had. This was so wonderful; I could hear explosions in the background. I swear my heart skipped a beat. My whole body sang joyfully. I was thanking the gods with all I had, when..._

My eyes opened.

I groaned unhappily. Why did anything good have to end? This was why I didn't like dreams. All the good ones were over too quickly. Well, not completely. My sweet, honourable, loving Jon still held me in his arms, asleep. His lashes were long and they rested on his cheeks innocently, like a young boy's. I'd never seen him look this vulnerable. The only thing that stopped me from mistaking him for a child was the hair that left its dark shadow on his jaw and lip. I nuzzled his chest gently.

Everything was so quiet, so still, like the calm before a storm. It wasn't yet time to get up but it was clearly morning. I didn't want to wake Jon, anyway. A thick curl of black hair fell over his face endearingly.

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

He wasn't stirring by the time the horn that signified getting up time blew, so I shook him awake gently. "Time to wake up, sleepy," I smiled. Jon screwed his eyes up and yawned, awake now.

"Do we have to get up already?" he complained sleepily. I rolled out of bed.

"Yeah. Could be worse." I started yanking my breeches on, tying the laces so tight I could barely breathe in my haste. "Come on, you great lazy thing. I don't want to have to throw cold water over you." This threat was so familiar to me. A pang of sorrow hit. I really, really missed Orla. I missed Richard even more so, and you may as well throw Kirren into the mix too. Nothing could replace my family, not even Jon, who was currently trying to tug a shirt over his head. My shirt, which was made at least three sizes too small for him. "How long were you awake last night after I went to sleep?"

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

_I just want you to know who I am_

_I just want you to know who I am_

_I just want you to know who I am_

"Not long."

"Liar. You're trying to put my shirt on." He took a look at the shirt and cussed under his breath.

"Sorry. Give me a chance to wake up."

I rolled my eyes but said no more about it. I got the shirt back, anyway.

**Jon**

I looked on at Rast and Sam. The former wasn't doing anything in the way of fighting; he was simply shifting from foot to foot and sneaking glances at me. I stood, expressionless, giving nothing away. Sam was trying at least, but when he hit Rast he dropped his sword clumsily. "What are you waiting for?" Ser Alliser growled. "Attack him!" Rast hesitated. Then finally he tapped Sam on the arm with the flat of his sword. There was a reason for his subdued demeanour.

I'd paid him a visit while he was sleeping last night, with Grenn, Pyp, and Ghost. On my orders, Ghost had leapt onto his chest while I gagged him with a twisted strip of cloth. "No-one touches Sam," I'd threatened. Only to have that blow up in my face a few hours later when Sam caught me and Lyara kissing.

Ser Alliser became more and more frustrated, until he eventually pulled Rast away. "You, get in there," he snarled, pushing Grenn towards Sam. It was quite amusing.

"Hit me," Grenn muttered softly. Sam was confused. "Go on, hit me!" When the fat boy obeyed, he pretended to fall over in agony. "Ah! I yield!" I couldn't stop a smile coming to my face as everyone else laughed. "Yield! Yield. I yield." Thorne narrowed his eyes, pushed Sam out of his way as he marched over to me, and grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. I stopped smiling.

"You think this is funny, do you?" he asked, his voice as menacing and silky as he glared. "When you're out there, beyond the Wall with the sun going down, d'you want a man at your back? Or a snivelling boy?" He projected his voice then for everyone to hear, and I knew I wasn't going to win this one. I submitted instead, and rubbed my neck surreptitiously when he let me go.

Training finished early, as it started raining and didn't stop, so I was forced to scrub the mess hall with Sam as a punishment for my 'insolence'. We were on the second table when he spoke to me. "Did I imagine last night?" he questioned, voice wobbling. I shook my head, wishing with all my heart he hadn't seen that. "Why did she come here? Truthfully." I sighed.

"Lyara was going to be sent away to King's Landing by her foster parents, to be a Septa."

"Why?"

"Because they told her to stay away from me and she didn't listen."

"What did you do to make them do that?" I was getting annoyed with the questions, but I supposed he deserved to know everything. "Did you-" His voice dropped to a whisper- "Did you get her pregnant and leave her?"

"No. I wouldn't do that to anyone, let alone Lyara, ever," I snapped.

"What, then?"

Silence ensued. "I don't know," I finally admitted. "Ask Lyara that."

"How long have you known her?" At least Sam was now trying to stay away from the heavier topics. I thanked him internally and answered.

"Nearly six years. We were just little when we met."

"Do you love her?" Forget what I said earlier.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Then why didn't you stay in Winterfell?"

"I didn't know she returned my feelings."

"You weren't together?"

"No. She was courting my worst enemy at one point, though. It was me she came to when it blew up in her face." My mind went back. Two years ago, when Lyara and Theon had been together.

"Tell me about it," Sam begged. 'Oh well,' I thought. 'May as well, now.'

**Flashback**

_I glared at Theon's back while he tickled Lyara playfully. It just had to be my friend he took, didn't it? She spent more or less all her time with him now, except for a few chance moments she tried to scrape up for me. But it still hurt. The minute Theon twitched his tail at her...I ground my teeth. Scratching the black peach-fuzz that was beginning to cover my jaw (another thing that was annoying me, though I tried not to let it show. I was really rather proud of my stubble) to take my mind off things, I turned my attention to Bran having his first go at grooming a horse. _

_**Oh, you can't hear me cry  
See my dreams all die  
From where you're standing  
On your own**_

_Unfortunately, the sickening display of affection was still going on, and it irked me enough to make me speak. "D'you mind doing that in private?" I called. Theon grinned mockingly._

"_Oh, is ickle Jon uncomfortable? Ickle Jon should fuck off, then. Go on, bastard," he bit back. Lyara scowled at him angrily and pushed him onto the ground._

"_Don't speak to him that way," she warned icily. "I catch you doing it again I'll give you a lot worse than that." She stormed off home. Theon stared after her, and then pounced on me._

"_Get it into your head, bastard. Lyara Riordan is __**mine**__, so back off, and we won't have a problem. If you don't..." He shrugged. "Say goodbye to any chance of seeing her."_

"_Her name's Lyara __**Rierden**__. Not Riordan, Rierden. If you gave a damn about her you'd know that. She deserves better than you," I growled._

"_Who does she deserve then, Snow? You? You're just a bastard boy from the North. I'm Prince of the Iron Islands."_

"_At least my father cares about me. Yours gave you up like some dog he didn't want anymore." I laughed harshly. "So now tell me how much better for her you are. I've known her for three years-she won't put up with you for much longer, 'Prince of the Iron Islands'." I dodged his punch and walked away. I was slightly shocked at myself. I never spoke to anyone that way, but he made me so ANGRY, and it felt so very, very good. _

_**It's so quiet here  
And I feel so cold  
This house no longer  
Feels like home**_

"_He's not a complete prick once you get to know him, Jon," Lyara told me later that day. We were sitting by the weirwood, eating a cold supper that Orla had given us. "He can be very kind, and sweet." I raised an eyebrow._

"_Are we talking about Theon Greyjoy here, or another Theon I should know about?" I asked. She grinned and shook her head exasperatedly._

"_I'm being serious. He has a soft side, whether you believe it or not."_

_**Oh, when you told me you'd leave  
I felt like I couldn't breathe  
My aching body fell to the floor  
Then I called you at home  
You said that you weren't alone  
I should've known better  
Now it hurts much more**_

"_I don't believe it. He could really hurt you, Lyara. Don't trust him too easily." She cocked her head to the side, so she could fix her hazel-green eyes on mine. _

"_Are you jealous, Jon?"_

"_Of course I'm not! Well...not that way. But friends like you aren't exactly a common breed." I laughed as she looked at me quizzically. "What? It's true! I know it's petulant, but we never spend any time together now, and it is __**really**__ annoying me."_

"_What are we doing now, then? And I know you're not overly fond of Theon. You don't have to be nice to him, just civil. I've asked him to do the same, and if he doesn't, then I'll stop courting him." I nearly choked on my apple._

"_Why?"_

"_Because you're my best friend! If he can't even be civil to you for my sake, then he obviously doesn't care that much." She hugged me tight. I smiled in relief and returned the embrace enthusiastically. "You're growing a beard," she mumbled, her voice muffled._

_**You caused my heart to bleed and  
You still owe me a reason  
I can't figure out why...**_

_**Why I'm alone and freezing  
While you're in the bed that she's in  
I'm just left alone to cry**_

"_Is it scratchy?" I asked, blushing._

"_No, it just feels odd." Lyara pinched my cheek teasingly, making me chuckle and shove her away. "We're both growing up now."_

"_Mm." _

"_Lyara? Lyara!" I had to dig my fingernails into my palms as Theon came into the godswood._

"_What is it? I'm busy," she replied, irked. _

"_I just wondered where you were." He turned stiffly towards me. "Jon."_

"_Theon," I answered. _

"_Orla wants you home now."_

"_Why'd she send you to get me?" _

"_I was looking for you, so of course I stopped at your home first." Lyara rolled her eyes, and stood up, allowing him to put an arm around her shoulder. _

"_Bye, Jon."_

"_Goodbye."_

_**Ohhh...Ohhh...Ehhh...Ehhh...  
Ohhh...Ohhh...Ehhh...Ehhh...  
Ohhh...Ohhh...Ehhh...Ehhh...  
Ohhh...Ohhh...Ehhh...Ehhh...**_

_**You caused my heart to bleed and  
You still owe me a reason  
I can't figure out why...  
You caused my heart to bleed and  
You still owe me a reason  
I can't figure out why...**_

_**Oh, you can't hear me cry  
See my dreams all die  
From where you're standing  
On your own**_

_**It's so quiet here  
And I feel so cold  
This house no longer  
Feels like home**_

I began scrubbing the table harder than I'd meant. Thinking of Theon irritated me-I'd put him out of my mind.

"I know for a fact that some of the officers go to that brothel in Mole's Town," Sam grumbled after a peaceful hour's silence.

"I wouldn't doubt it," I replied dryly. It wasn't news to me, and it wasn't as if I'd been entirely celibate...my cheeks reddened at the thought.

"Don't you think it's a little bit unfair? Making us take our vows while they sneak off for a little... Sally on the side?" The expression made a laugh bubble up in my throat. I started to feel slightly better-after all, why hold onto bad memories? I had a new life here.

"Sally on the side?"

"Silly, isn't it? What, _we _can't defend the Wall unless we're celibate? It's absurd!" He too got red in the face. Clearly, it aggravated Sam-though I doubted he'd even gotten within a metre of a girl. He was too timid and awkward. In truth, I wasn't the best socialiser either, but somehow girls took a shine to me. I hadn't noticed them all that much.

"I didn't think you'd be so upset about it."

"Why not?" Sam looked puzzled. Then an indignant look came over his face. "Because I'm fat?"

"No-"

"But I like girls just as much as you do. They might not like me as much." He shrugged as if it was inevitable. Then he blushed, not out of anger, but out of embarrassment. "I've never...been with one. You've probably had hundreds." I stopped scrubbing.

"No. As a matter of fact...I've only had one. Only Lyara, and only once."

"That's still one more than I've ever had. One more than I will have, now. Ah...what-what was it like?" I rolled my eyes.

"Grenn and Pyp asked me the same thing."

"Please tell me, please! I promise I won't say anything!" He seemed more interested now than he had been when he first said those words.

"Well, it was the first time for both of us, so neither Lyara nor I were exactly experienced. It was just over a month ago. I went to confront her about her disguise and deception as Liam, and ended up bedding her instead. Unintentionally, but it was still wonderful." He didn't seem to mind much that I too had broken the rules. Instead he was listening intently.

"Did she dye her hair or it it naturally dark?"

"Natural. It used to be a lot longer, but it's still the same dark brown." Sam smiled shyly.

"I like redheads better, but dark hair's nice too. And her...her, um..." He moved his hands up to his chest and I grinned.

"They're not really that big. Nice and firm, though-with sensitive nipples." At this he did look slightly disappointed. "The rest of her body made up for it, and her energy." Happier now.


End file.
